


Shenanigans Ensue

by P1rateW3nch



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, I'm probably going to do a re-write in January, This is unbeta'd, actually, delphine is a buttmonkey, most of the cast of the main questline shows up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-07 16:04:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P1rateW3nch/pseuds/P1rateW3nch
Summary: Sheogorath manages to convince the Divines to let Him choose the Last Dragonborn. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Prologue

Figures flickered, human, mer, betmer, but the watcher seemed unsatisfied. He was looking for a certain spark, and it was proving more illusive than he had thought. He flipped back, showing a young Khajiit female, black of fur and amber of eye. He watched as she moved through a crowd of Imperials, coming out the far side with a number of coinpurses. He watched, smile growing as he watched her work a crowd, never taking more than could afford to be lost. 

“Yes,” he murmured, watching as she quietly climbed a wall out of the city. “I like this one.”

 

A voice in the darkness. “Again.”

A Redguard, surrounded by soldiers, drew steel and was cut down.

“Again.”

An Imperial stood, too shocked to move, and was consumed by flames.

“Again.”

The gathered watchers were silent as the pantomime played over and over. The lead actor changed with each repetition, as did the choices, but all iterations ended in failure and death for the pawns.

“As you see, My lords, none of Yours will succeed.”

“And why do You champion this?”

A laugh. “This spells my end as well. I'm rather attached to this form, I'd like to keep it a bit longer.”

A sigh. “Very well. You may use Your chosen.”

A sense of triumph, and something else, quickly stifled.

“However, her fate will be Yours. Should she fail, it will spell Your doom.”

 

 

She opened her eyes to darkness.

She knew she was dreaming, but couldn't make herself move at all. So she sighed and lay still, waiting to see what the dream would show. After a while, she realized she was drifting, moving blindly toward an unseen goal.

“Really. I've been waiting for ages."

She heard someone clap their hands, then heard a voice address her.

"Now. You, My most favorite mortal, get to represent Me in a little challenge. Unfortunately for you, you might not survive the training portion."

She shifted, knowing she should know the speaker. “What-”

“Nope! No questions! You’ll get your answers in due time, in due time. But for now, off you go, and do mind yourself. I have a very great deal riding on you.”

She had the sensation of falling, and she opened her eyes with a gasp.


	2. 1

Dar’adhavi looked around, startled. She had been in Cyrodiil, in her home in Bravil, and suddenly found herself seated in a cart, her hands bound, and there was snow falling gently around her. Her ears flattened as her tail twitched in annoyance.

“Hey you, you’re finally awake,” the Nord seated across from her said. “You were trying to cross the border, right? Same as us, and that thief over there.” He nodded at the Breton beside him.

Dar’adhavi snorted and turned her head away. _I'd bet my whiskers that was the Skooma Cat who sent me here. What have I done to deserve His attention?_

The men seated across from her continued speaking, but she ignored them as another voice sounded in her mind.

_Very good, little mortal! Most of the others never even figured out they were pawns. Now, be a good kitten and pay attention._

“Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!” the Nord snapped.

Surprised, Dar’adhavi looked at the man seated next to her. He was bound, like the rest in the carts, but a strip of cloth had been tied around his mouth as a makeshift gag.

“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion! If they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?” the Breton’s voice rose in terror.

Dar’adhavi ignored him, and the Nord trying to calm him, as she looked around. She didn’t recognize anything, unsurprising, since she’d never traveled to Skyrim before, but a sign pointed toward a town called Helgen. She sighed and watched the road ahead of the cart. There was a bend in the road ahead, and she thought she saw an Imperial general in the lead. This wasn’t good, but the Skooma Cat dumped her into this mess, and it was well known that He didn’t break his playthings pointlessly. She would likely have a single chance to escape, if she was clever. So, she would have to be clever.

She looked over the shoulder of the driver, and realized they were the last in a line of carts. The Jarl must have had his whole command with him. Why, though? She shrugged and kept watching. There were more of the rebels than Imperial soldiers, but she guessed that there would be more Imperials before long, especially if the wall ahead was any indication. She twitched her tail slightly as the cart went under the archway and she saw the general talking to some Altmer.

“Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And the Thalmor are with him. Damned elves,” the Nord across from her snarled.

Her ears flattened a bit at that. The Thalmor had been making some problems in Elsweyr, but based on the response, they held more sway here. As the carts pulled to a halt, the prisoners were ushered off and into lines. The Breton continued to protest that he wasn’t with them. She stood in her line, waiting for a decent chance to bolt. She was faster than the humans would be, but not faster than an arrow. The Breton’s name was called, and he tried to run. Dar’adhavi sneered at his back. _Fool. You won’t make it five steps- Told you,_ she thought as the archers shot him down.

She stepped forward when the guard gestured to her, and the Imperial with the list seemed a bit surprised.

“Wait. Who are you?”

“Khajiit is called Dar’adhavi, of Elsweyr.”

The Imperial turned to the Redguard woman beside him. “Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list.”

The captain scoffed. “Forget the list. She goes to the block.”

“By your orders, Captain,” he said to her back as she marched off. “I’m sorry. We’ll see to it your remains are returned to Elsweyr.” He seemed genuinely regretful as he sent her to stand with the crowd of rebels.

She went without complaint, noticing the rebel leader was standing opposite the general. The general was berating the Jarl for starting the war, but Dar’adhavi thought she heard another sound. She ignored the crowd around her, jumping with the rest when a strange roar filled the air. The general waved it off as nothing, and the priestess of Arkay began the funeral rites. Dar’adhavi ignored them, only flicking an ear at the mention of eight Divines, as she watched a speck skim along the tops of the mountains.

Another rebel interrupted the rites, in the name of Talos, and demanded to be executed immediately. The captain agreed, and the man settled onto the block with a final sally about “not having all day”. As the axe came down, she heard someone admire his bravery. She snorted at the thought, there was no bravery in going willingly to an early death, which likely attracted the attention of the captain.

“Next, the cat!”

She stepped forward, and paused as another roar split the air. _Something’s annoyed,_ she mused as she approached the block. She lay with her head in the cradle, and flinched back as a great black beast landed atop the tower behind the headsman. The force of the brute’s landing knocked the headsman off his feet, and she hissed in pain as the axe caught her shoulder. Glancing around at the chaos the beast’s arrival had made of the proceedings, she quickly sliced the ropes around her wrists with the axe and ran into the nearest open door, dodging flaming boulders that had started falling from the sky.

She quickly decided that that had been a bad plan when she saw the Jarl in the middle of the tower, commenting that “legends didn’t burn down villages”. She secretly agreed, but continued up the tower in the hopes of finding a back door. She had been arrested with him once, and that was enough. She froze as the wall ahead of her crumbled, the beast’s head knocking down the solid stonework like straw, and she dropped when it opened its mouth to billowing gouts of flame. _Were there words in that?_ She shook her head and rose when it left, glancing out the convenient hole.

Seeing the ruins of the inn below, she jumped through the gap, hissing in pain as the end of her tail dragged through some embers. She looked around and grabbed a knapsack that didn’t look too damaged, and dropped through a hole in the floor to the ground floor. She saw the regretful Imperial and some of his fellows ahead. It looked as though he was trying to convince a child to leave the side of his father and join him. Briefly, Dar’adhavi felt sorry for the boy. His father was wounded, gravely, by the look of things, and that beast had landed just beyond him. She winced as the dragon, for there was nothing else it could be, again belched _shouted?_ fire on the wounded man and flew off again.

She rushed forward, past the soldiers and the dead man, and down what had once been an alley. It was now a smoking ruin, and she was careful to avoid the parts that were still ablaze. She heard a noise above her and pressed against the wall. A soldier saw her, and moved as if to capture her, but the dragon on the wall above her flamed him down, before once again flying off.

 _It’s almost as if it’s looking for a particular person, but that makes no sense,_ she mused as she ran through the ruins of the house she had been hidden behind. She ignored the guards and the Thalmor as she made her way to the Keep. The general had been commanding his men there, so there must be a back way out. The guards were shouting invective at the dragon, apparently completely unable to slow it, let alone kill it. Dar’adhavi wished them well on their futile quest and entered the keep.

She found herself in the guards’ quarters, surprisingly alone. She focused, and felt the warmth of the healing spell begin to speed the mending of her shoulder. Sighing, and briefly bemoaning her lack of magical skill, she studied the room. She quickly searched through all the chests she could, and found she was able to scrounge up almost a full set of armor. She shrugged and put it on, knowing that eventually everyone would realize that there were no Khajiit in the Imperial forces in Skyrim, but she was certain she could have a blade in their belly before they could say anything. She pocketed the small amount of coins she found, shoved a map into her pack, and moved on, sliding a dagger into her boot.

As she was finishing buckling on a sword, she realized she heard fighting ahead. She crept forward, hoping to avoid conflict as long as possible. She saw that the captain and a few other guards were locked in close quarter combat with some of the rebels, and she slunk past, glad of the distraction. She opened the gate on the far side of the room and kept on. She followed the wall down a flight of stairs and around a corner, jumping a bit when the ceiling in the hall ahead collapsed, crushing more combatants under the weight.

She opened the door to her left, relieved to find it empty, and even more to realize it was a storeroom. She quickly grabbed some potions, downing the first healing one she found and wincing at the burn in her shoulder as the magic took hold, fixing the rest of the damage. She shoved the others in her pack, ignoring the magika potions, and added a few apples and rabbits that were lying around. Moving past the far door, she was pleased to find herself past the cave-in.

Continuing down the corridor, she found more downward stairs, and a torture room. The guards and rebels had managed to end themselves before her arrival, and she checked the pockets of the fallen as she passed. Finding a few lockpicks, she grinned and headed to the occupied cell. She deftly tickled the lock, swiftly opening the gate, and relieving the corpse inside of his robe, which she thought was magiked, and the coin he still held. She paused at a small table and threw the book on it into her pack. She didn’t know why, but she had learned to trust her instincts. She moved deeper into the keep, ears twitching at the sound of distant fighting. She cautiously eased down the corridor and peered into the cavern ahead.

More Imperials and rebels were locked in combat, but as she watched, the rebels won the conflict and fled down another hallway. She slunk out, grabbing a bow and as many arrows as she could carry from the dead and followed. She saw where a bridge had lain, though more stones had destroyed it, and she leapt over the gap. She found herself along the bank of an underground river and followed it a bit, veering off to check a side passage. No exit, but an abandoned coin purse, which joined her meager collection. She headed downstream, taking another side passage when the main way was barred.

She passed through a cavern full of dead frostbite spiders, shuddering at the thought of facing them, and on into a larger cavern. She spotted an abandoned wagon and hurried to it, finding a fat coin purse tucked in amongst some wine bottles. As she turned to move on, she froze, seeing a bear sleeping ahead. She cast her gaze around frantically, trying to see a way out, and finally spied one that she could reach without going too near the bear.

She slowly moved past the bear, hardly breathing as it looked around and went back to sleep. Finally, she relaxed and moved forward again, down a path that reeked of the bear and its kills, and out into the sunlight. She heard the dragon roar again, and hid under a rock as he passed. Once she was sure it was gone, she emerged. She saw a road ahead, and decided to find an inn. She needed to speak to Himself, and she needed to rest. She followed the sign to “Riverwood”, and bid a farewell to the ruins of Helgen.

She glared at a ruin on the mountain ahead. She didn't know why, but it made her hackles rise. She shook it off, and paused at some standing stones by the road. She decided to rest for a moment and see what possessions she had. She upended the pack, separating all the coins into the largest coin purse she had. She was pleased to see a few hundred, and hoped to “find” more along the way. She had a decent stash of lockpicks, and took a few moments to hide some in the hems of her undergarments. No one ever checked there, and she would be glad of the use should she be arrested again. The rest were tucked into a small pouch in the pack. She tucked the healing potions to the bottom, and was pleased to find some mead and dried meat and fruit in the pack. He studied the map, as well, carefully following the roads and borders, and making a note of the capitols. She picked up the book she had found, and turned it over in her hands, but tucked it away with the rest of her supplies. Shouldering the pack again, she studied the stones around her. Intrigued by the carvings, she lay a hand against the Thief sign, jumping back, startled, when it lit at her touch. Considering, she continued on, seeing a small town in the distance. She paused and threw the robe and hood on over the armor, tucking the helm into her pack. She hoped no one would look too closely at her, and that the record of her arrest had burned with the town. The town wasn't large enough for a full wall, but there was an arch over the road. It looked like the whole town was gathered, watching smoke rise over the trees.

“Khajiit!”

She turned to face the man who had called out, a massive Imperial with a leather apron over well-worn clothes. She guessed he was the local blacksmith and nodded slightly.

“Hail, traveler. I don’t suppose you know where the smoke is from?” he asked, as several other townspeople looked her over curiously.

“Unless there was a battle Khajiit is unaware of, Khajiit thinks you are seeing the smoke from where Helgen stood.”

The closest townsfolk looked shocked, and a murmur rose from the crowd. There was one woman, though, toward the back of the crowd, who kept studying Dar’adhavi, almost like a predator, and she kept her awareness on the woman as she addressed the crowd again.

“Khajiit was traveling and had made a stop at Helgen for supplies. Shortly after her arrival, General Tullius arrived with several Stormcloak prisoners, including Jarl Ulfric. The Jarl was to be executed, but a huge black dragon landed and began destroying the town. Khajiit fled, and knows no more.”

An old woman began crowing that it had been a dragon she had seen, and the woman who was watching Dar’adhavi with a hunter’s intensity looked shocked and eased away from the crowd, heading to the inn. A rather muscular woman began quieting the townsfolk down, and turned to Dar’adhavi.

“I’m Gerdur, I run the mill, and mostly the town. I need to ask a favor of you, traveler. If Helgen fell, Riverwood is defenseless. Please, could you go to Whiterun and tell the Jarl what you saw? We’ll see you resupplied before you go.”

Dar’adhavi paused, considering. She had intended to rent a room to try and contact Skooma Cat, but she didn’t want to try and sleep under the same roof as the Nord with the hunter’s eyes. That decided her, and she nodded.

“Fine. Khajiit will need food, and supplies, and she will do this thing.”

Gerdur and the smith, Alvor, managed to fill her pack with good food and enough coin to ease her way considerably. The smith also gave her a few pieces of jewelry, and she accepted, knowing that they could be sold in a larger town for more. As she was leaving, a young woman approached her.

“I know you’re doing so much for us already, but please, my brother’s store was broken into and our only valuable was stolen. It was an ornament, made of solid gold, shaped like a dragon’s claw. Please, if you find it, could you return it? I’m sure Lucien will reward you.” She tried fluttering her eyelashes, and Dar’adhavi stifled a grin.

 _Foolish humans, they think everyone is attracted to them._ “Very well. If Khajiit finds your trinket, Khajiit will return it.”

She turned and left, passing the inn. The woman with the hunter’s eyes watched her go, and Dar’adhavi resisted the urge to hiss at her as she passed. Instead, she focused on the scent of the hunter, making a mental note to avoid her at every opportunity. She couldn’t quite pin it down, but she mistrusted that one.

As she walked down the road to Whiterun, she tried to recall everything she had heard about the Skooma Cat, and wondered at what He had to do with the dragon at Helgen. She passed a meadery and some farms, making a wide berth around one that appeared to be under attack by a giant. Several warriors were fighting the brute with apparent enjoyment, and she left them to it. _What’s the point of living like that?_ A woman caught her gaze, and she laughed at the expression on the archer’s face, as she was evidently thinking the same as Dar’adhavi.

She headed up the path to the main gate of the city, and was stopped by a guard.

“Halt. City’s closed with the dragon about. Official business only.”

She mentally sighed, but answered him. “Khajiit has come from Riverwood. They request the aid of the Jarl.”

The second door guard sneered at her. “And why should we allow a Khajiit into Whiterun, anyway. Damned thieves, the lot of you.”

“Khajiit saw what happened at Helgen. Khajiit thinks your Jarl will wish to know what she saw?”

“Fine. We’ll let you in, but we’ll be keeping an eye on you, cat.” So saying, the guard turned to unlock the gate.

She was half-tempted to lift something from him, just to prove she could, but she was well aware that working guardsmen didn’t carry anything worth the taking. She bowed in false subservience and entered the city. She decided it would be best to leave as quickly as possible, and bypassed several shops and the market as she made her way to the Jarl’s palace. Several other guards saw her as she walked, and she was careful to keep an obvious space between herself and those around her. She didn’t want to waste time being detained.

The second square she passed was crowned by a huge dying tree, overseen by a statue of a man standing on the back of a snake. She paused at the shrine to Talos at its feet, ignoring the preacher who was shouting about the injustices caused by the elves. _Of course, they will make no mention of the injustices their people cause against mine_ , she mentally snarled, moving past the priest to the stairs to the palace. The guards at the door were surprisingly courteous, opening the great door as she approached.

That courtesy seemed to end once she was in the hall proper, however, as a Dunmer drew her sword and approached her.

“What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.” she demanded.

Dar’adhavi raised a hand in supplication. “Please. Khajiit has news of Helgen, and a request from Riverwood.”

The Dunmer huffed, surprised. “Well, I can see why the guards let you in. Come on, then. The Jarl will want to speak with you personally.”

She sheathed her sword and led the rest of the way to the dais where the Jarl was seated, arguing with an older Imperial. The Jarl turned from the other man at their approach.

“Who’s this, then?”

Dar’adhavi bowed slightly as the Dunmer introduced her. “She says she was at Helgen, and passed through Riverwood.”

“You were at Helgen? You saw what happened?”

“Yes. The Imperials had captured Jarl Ulfric, and were to execute him. A great dragon came and interrupted the executions. Khajiit saw it fly away, but did not see the Jarl among the slain.”

“I should have known Jarl Ulfric was tangled up in this.” The Jarl seemed to forget her for a moment, and she coughed lightly.

“The town of Riverwood calls for your aid, my lord. They claim to be defenseless, and request what soldiers you may spare.”

The Imperial began to argue, claiming that the neighboring hold would take it as a provocation, but the Jarl cut him off.

“I will not sit idly by while a dragon destroys my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”

The Dunmer bowed and left while the Jarl dismissed the Imperial and turned to Dar’adhavi. “So, you’ve sought me out, on your own initiative. I won’t forget that. Now, there is something else you might be able to do for me.” So saying, he rose and headed to a room off the main hall, and she followed, curious.

The Jarl addressed the man inside. “Farengar. I think I found someone who can can help you with your dragon project.”

The wizard looked up, startled and the Jarl continued, “Go ahead and fill her in on all the details.”

They both bowed as the Jarl left, and the wizard turned to study her. “So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh, yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me.” He seemed to consider this. “Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into an dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.”

Dar’adhavi felt her tail twitch, but she tried to ask calmly, “Khajiit is… confused. You want what? And how would a tablet assist with dragons?”

He beamed at her, “Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker? Perhaps even a scholar? You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors, impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons- where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?”

She nodded. “Khajiit understands. So, what do you need of her?”

He seemed thrown by the question. "I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that the prologue is kinda... blah, so here's the first actual chapter.


	3. 2

She rolled her eyes and left, nodding at the jarl on her way past. She intended to stop at an inn for at least a brief nap before she walked the miles back to Riverwood. She made her way to the inn, The Bannered Mare, and paid for a bed and a meal. She followed the owner up to the loft room, glad that there were few enough travelers staying so she could have privacy.

Once she was alone, she ate quickly and placed her offerings on the small plate. She carefully arranged the cabbage and yarn and began to pray. “Skooma Cat, You have chosen me for a reason. Please let me know if I’m doing as You wish.”

There was no answer. She sighed and packed up her gear and lay down for a nap.

She dreamed.

She saw a palace ahead of her, and the sky above it was a riot of colors against the blackness of night. She walked up the path, marveling at the great torches burning, one side with yellow flames, the other with blue. She paused at the doors, and the guardians, one in gold, the other in black, stared back. She ducked past the guardian in gold and entered a throne room. She walked in, and found herself on a runner, split in color again, one half red, the other green. What appeared to be a man, an Imperial just past his prime, sat in the throne, applauding. She knelt.

“My Lord Sheggorath.”

“Well done, little mortal, well done! Now, to answer your question, you didn’t die, so that’s good.”

She pinned her ears back at the mocking tone. “What do You need me to be doing?”

“Can’t tell you that, kitten. There’s rules, even for Me. But, I can say you’re running the maze quite well. Have some cheese. And you would do well to remember, I’m not at your beck and call. Now, do get back to work, or I’ll pluck out your eyes.”

She had the sense that He was done with the conversation. The man that stood beside the throne caught her eye and gestured to the doors. She bowed and made her exit. She was surprised to meet the man in the courtyard, as she hadn’t heard him move.

“I am Haskill, chamberlain to Lord Sheogorath. I have been permitted to tell you things that my Lord cannot, but first, you must make an effort to discover your path on your own. As He said, there are rules.” He studied her, then continued. “You will return to New Sheoth every time you rest from here on, and my Lord has decided to grant you what protections He may. You should speak with me should you have any questions, and not bother our Lord unless you absolutely must.” He turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, “You found a book in the keep. I strongly suggest you read it.”

She stared at him. She was surprised to find a member of that court to be so dry, and apparently sane, but she shrugged it off. She felt herself waking up, and opened her eyes to the room in the inn. She was slightly surprised to note that it was almost dawn. She rose and dressed, tucking the robes into her pack and wearing the armor openly. She walked downstairs, nodding at the Redguard woman who was stoking the fire, and walked out of the inn. She made her way back to the stables, briefly considering stealing a horse.

“Ri’saad recommends against that, youngling.”

She turned to see several Khajiit walking up the road to a clearing outside of the gates. She made a face at the one who spoke, but heeded his advice and continued on. She made her way back to Riverwood, seeing some guards patrolling the area. She nodded at them and continued up a second path, higher up the mountain. She paused when she saw a watchtower ahead. There were no official outposts up here, so there might be bandits. She watched the tower, and saw two humans emerge. One leaned against a tree while the other stood on a small bridge. Carefully, she readied her bow and nocked an arrow. She fired, and pinned the one against the tree he leaned against. The other immediately began looking for her, and she quickly dispatched him, as well. She made her way to the tower, careful not to attract any attention in case there were any more inside, and quickly looted the bodies of any coin and arrows. Making her way through the ruined tower, she spotted another man on the next floor. She carefully aimed, but only nicked him. He drew a greatsword and rushed down the stairs, and she shot him squarely. He fell down the last few steps, and she slit his throat. She relieved him of his coin purse and found a chest, apparently holding the bandits’ takings. It wasn’t much, but she helped herself.

She continued down the path, pausing again to take in the sight of the ruin. She didn’t like it any better now that she was closer, but apparently she didn’t have much of a choice. The wind shifted, and she caught the scent of more humans. Fresh, so she guessed there were some hanging around the ruin. Scanning what she could see from her vantage point, she spied an archer on a ledge. Carefully, she shot them, hurrying around to where they fell. She swore as she heard shouts above her, and she quickly shot the brute charging her. _I will never understand why melee fighters charge archers or mages. It never works for them,_ she thought dispassionately as she filled him and his companion with arrows. Once they were dead, she gathered what arrows she could from the slain and approached the ruin proper. She eased her way inside, listening for any sign of occupancy. She hadn’t seen any sort of campsite yet, and there might be more bandits further in. The first thing she saw was a corpse, surrounded by the corpses of giant rats. Next, she saw a fire on the far side of the room, with two people standing beside it. She concealed herself behind a fallen pillar, and quickly fired two arrows, killing both before they knew she was there.

She collected her arrows and continued on, following a twisting path through the ruins. She paused again at the top of a short flight of stairs, seeing a man at the bottom. He didn't see her, and she couldn't see what he did, but she watched as he triggered a trap and fell with a cry. She entered the room once she was certain he wasn’t getting up.

There were carvings near the ceiling, and a spot where one had fallen. The carving lay mostly intact on the floor near a gate. As she looked around the small room, she noticed three pillars off to one side. She ignored the corpse and the lever he had apparently pulled and studied the pillars. They had three sides, each marked with a serpent, a hawk, and a whale, with a small arrow on the base of each. She turned one, and seeing that it moved somewhat easily, she adjusted all three to match the carvings on the wall.

When she tried the lever, the gate slid open easily. She walked through, into a room with no ornamentation save a pit. She waited while the rats she heard at the base of the pit approached. Once the rats were dispatched, she continued on.

She was surprised to hear someone calling for help, apparently from the bandits above, and she cautiously moved toward the sound. She didn't like the amount of spiderwebs she saw, and paused in front of an arch that was completely blocked with them. She couldn't see past the webs, so she cut them with her knife.

The largest spider she had ever seen dropped down into the room and she quickly ducked back out. It looked too large to fit through the doorway, but she stayed hidden as she shot it. It finally fell and she breathed a sigh of relief. When she reentered the room, she saw several human corpses the spider had been feeding on, and a man tangled in the webs. He started begging her to cut him down when he saw her. She sighed and walked over.

 _I don't recall Sheggorath’s chosen being known for their heroics,_ she mused as she approached him.

“You did it, you killed it. Now cut me loose before anything else shows up,” he demanded.

She sighed again. She would have preferred to leave him, but he was strung over the only exit. Once he was down, he dusted himself off and sneered at her.

“You fool. Why should I share the treasure with anyone?” So asking, he ran down the corridor.

She sighed again and walked after him. She had a feeling he wouldn't get too far, if the smell of strange magic ahead was any indication.

She walked through what looked like a ritual chamber and heard the thief ahead scream. She flicked an ear and continued, moving on into a room holding a number of mummified bodies. She wasn't too concerned until one of them got up. She heard it growl, and heard a thud that must have been another trap. She shot the draugr, and the two that rose at the sound, and waited.

Once she was sure no more would get up, she eased her way to the chamber. She found the thief, lying near a spiked wall. She studied the floor carefully, and nodded to herself when she saw the pressure plate. She eased past it and checked him for valuables.

She found a golden claw, and she decided to take his journal. The phrase her eye caught was “when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands”. She snorted at that and moved on, sneaking through the ruins and avoiding the draugr when possible, slaying them when it wasn't. She paused to rest, and remembered what Haskill had said.

She tucked herself into a small alcove and pulled out the book she had picked up. It was mostly a scholarly work about the Dragonborn emperors, and the mythology surrounding them. She narrowed her eyes at a particular passage, however. “The Nords tell tales of Dragonborn heroes who were great dragonslayers, able to steal the power of the dragons they killed.” She also sneered at the “prophecy of the Dragonborn”, especially the last stanza.

“The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn”. He couldn't possibly mean that she was a destined hero, could he? Sheggorath never concerned himself with prophecy, as far as she knew. She shoved the book back into her pack and moved on, wanting to get this finished.

She moved through the rest of the ruin, only half paying attention to the draugr, until she reached what must have been “the hall of stories” the thief’s journal had mentioned. She dug out the claw and studied it and the door at the end of the Hall. Cautiously, she turned the wheels that made the center design of the door until the etched designs matched the pattern on the claw. Then she inserted the talons of the claw into the plate in the center and turned it. She leapt back as the door rumbled, then relaxed as it began to slide down. It opened into a massive cavern, and she was surprised to see a decorated wall on the far side. She walked to it, weapon sheathed, and froze when she heard chanting. She looked around, but saw nothing. Turning back to the wall, she noticed one of the words seemed to glow, and she felt herself responding to it in a way she couldn't define.

She jumped at a crash behind her, and whirled to face a draugr that had clawed its way out of a sarcophagus near the wall. Frantically, she drew her bow as she backed away, calming only once it ceased moving. She glanced at its sarcophagus and was slightly surprised to find a tablet nestled inside. She had almost forgotten why she was there.

Ruefully, she shook her head and grabbed the tablet, trying to make sense of the book and the wall. She followed the scent of fresh air, and found a secret passage out of the mountain. She walked toward Riverwood, giving a wide berth to a small cottage she passed. The smell of the more evil magics was clear in the air, and she had no desire to tangle with a witch. She made the road again, and crossed the bridge into Riverwood. She stopped at the traders’ shop to sell off the trinkets she had found, and returned the man’s claw. He was ridiculously glad to have it back, and gave her a rather large sum for its return. As she headed back to Whiterun, she regretted not returning it sooner. _Might have gotten a better deal on the trinkets._

Back in Whiterun, she decided to stay at the inn again, before returning with the tablet. She managed to get the same room, and spent some time studying the stone. There was a rough map of Skyrim with several locations marked. She compared them to the map she carried, but didn’t recognize anything. She tucked the stone and map back into her pack and stripped off the armor. She was pleased to see no major damage, and polished out the worst of what she had done. Finished, she lay the armor out to dry and lay down. She didn’t expect to be allowed into the palace tonight, but the Skooma Cat hated being predictable.

The night sky was split by a vast purple nebula, and she sighed. She was coming to believe that the best part of her service was the sky here. She was paused halfway down the walk when Haskill intercepted her.

“My Lord is in one of His moods, you would do well to remain here,” he informed her.

She shrugged and settled on the ground to watch the sky. “Dar’adhavi read the book you mentioned. Expressing her annoyance would be a foolish idea, would it not?”

“Indeed. But it will please Him that you have realized your purpose so soon. Here,” he handed her an orb, of a kind she hadn’t seen before. It almost looked like a soap bubble, but when she touched it, she could feel warmth emanating from it.

“What is this?” she asked, bewildered.

“It is a reckoning of some of the others who walked the path you are on.” So saying, Haskill turned and walked back to the palace.

She hissed at his retreating back, then turned her attention to the orb. There seemed to be figures moving inside, and she settled in to look closer. As she studied the orb, the figures seemed to grow until the images filled her entire field of vision.

The images swam into focus, and she was surprised to find herself overlooking a battle. She recognized the ruined tower as the watchtower near Whiterun, and she saw Irileth and several guardsmen firing arrows at something in the sky. There was an Altmer with them, throwing fireballs. Dar’adhavi looked up at a roar, and saw another dragon, this one gray in color, swoop down and snatch up the Altmer. She flinched as the dragon dropped the Altmer, and the sound of his bones breaking echoed as the images faded out.

When they faded back in, she watched a human woman, a Nord by her build, as she climbed a path up a mountain. The snow was falling heavily as the woman approached an overhang. She glanced up at a roar above her, then drew a battle axe as a frost troll dropped down in front of her. She slashed at the beast and dodged its return blows, seeming to try to herd it to a cliff in the distance. Once it was in position, the Nord yelled a battle cry and charged. Dar’adhavi winced as the Nord crashed into the troll, both figures hurtling off the cliff.

The images faded out and the orb had cooled in her hand. She rolled it in her palms, thinking. She felt herself waking up again and carefully placed the orb in the grass beside her. She awoke in her bed in the inn, and quickly donned the armor and made her way to Dragonsreach.

She entered Dragonsreach and approached Farengar’s study. She paused by the door, realizing that he had a guest, the hunter-eyed woman from Riverwood. She listened to their talk, mostly concerning translating a book they had found, but was seen by Farengar before she learned anything useful.

The woman kept her hood up, _probably convinced that no one will recognize she’s the innkeeper_ , and studied Dar’adhavi intently.

“You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work,” the woman said, and Dar’adhavi had to keep from bristling at her tone. It seemed to say “good pawn. Move as your betters have commanded”. She would tolerate that tone from Sheggorath, but not her.

_The wizard says you told him the location, and you stand there in well-worn armor. You were unable to face the draugr on your own? Or are you inexperienced, for all your apparent age, and did not wish others to know? Pfft. Humans. Always trying to get others to do the difficult work while you bask in the praise of your fellows._

The woman gave an order to Farengar and left as Irileth rushed in, announcing that a dragon had been spotted nearby. The woman kept walking, apparently unconcerned, and Dar’adhavi dropped her several levels in esteem.

_Why claim to wish to fight the dragons, if you will not take up arms yourself, hmm? The wizard is a scholar and is champing at the bit to face one. It would be obvious to a blind man that he would die on his own, yet he would try, if allowed. What are you hiding, I wonder?_

She decided to wait on the speculation, and subsequent snooping at the Sleeping Giant, until later and followed Irileth and Farengar up the stairs to, apparently, the war room. One of the guards was reporting to the Jarl about the dragon that had attacked the watchtower. She mostly tuned him out, deciding to listen for the innkeeper’s departure. She left quickly, and without talking. Dar’adhavi looked up as the Jarl turned to her.

“There’s no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. I need your help again. I need you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You were at Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons then anyone else here.”

She snorted to herself as he continued.

“But I haven’t forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city.”

She knew she hadn’t managed to school the surprise off her face at that. Property in the city? Everyone knew that Khajiit were barely tolerated inside the walls of Skyrim cities, and she could own property? Apparently the Stone was more important than she had assumed.

“And please, accept this gift from my personal armory,” he continued, offering her a beautifully crafted pair of bracers. As she slipped them on, she felt the tingle of magic. Examining them closer, she saw sigils that defined the enchantment. She nodded, impressed. These would ensure her arrows would hit with more force.

“I thank you for the gift, my lord,” she said, bowing.

As she left, she heard Farengar asking to come along, and silently agreed with the Jarl’s reasons behind the refusal. She nodded again when Balgruuf reminded Irileth that they were looking for information, not glory, as well. She was coming to like this Jarl. It was obvious to Dar’adhavi that he ruled his people with love, and she found herself willing to do more for him than she would for many others.

She followed Irileth to the gates of the city, where they were met by a small detachment. She half-listened to Irileth’s speech to the men, silently rating it. She was trying to challenge them, but they knew they were against a dragon, and Dar’adhavi could tell that many of them were expecting to not return to their families. As the group moved out, she sidled up to the man who appeared to be the ringleader.

“You know, Khajiit has heard tales of one called the Dragonborn. Perhaps the gods will send one with the dragons?” she asked.

The man snorted. “If the Nine send us a Dragonborn, I’ll buy the first round, cat.”

“Good. And if there is none, Dar’adhavi will buy them. But, you can not buy her drinks if you are dead, no? So we both must live, if only to honor our wagers.”

Several men laughed at that, and she moved ahead as they began teasing their friend. She waved a hand as she acknowledged several others joining in on her wager, then came to a halt behind Irileth as they reached the watchtower. She was briefly shaken as she recognized the destruction it had faced from the “recollections” of the orb she had been shown, then forced herself to be calm. There were several spots she could see where she could shoot without the dragon being able to reach her, and she remembered that the Altmer had been standing in the middle of the road when he was slain. Irileth ordered the men to spread out and look for clues, and she snorted. She approached the ringleader again.

“Dragons can fly, no? It would seem wiser to this one to seek out a place where one might see the sky, but is still protected from a large beast,” she murmured. He nodded slightly and moved off to the closest guard. She heard them speak briefly, and nodded as the message was quickly spread to the other men. She felt a little bad for Irileth, but she didn’t wish to see these men die.

A guard emerged from the tower at their approach, shouting that it was still around. Dar’adhavi ignored Irileth’s questioning of the man and turned sensing… something approach. She saw a form rising from the mountain and hissed a warning.

“It comes! Stay away from open ground, and ready your bows!” Taking her own advice, she ducked between a fallen pillar and a segment of wall, aiming at the approaching dragon. She recognized it, too, from the vision, and shot it squarely in the wing. It flinched and roared, wheeling around to belch fire at the ruins. It landed a short way away from her, and she was mildly surprised to hear it speak. The tone was mocking, and the words tickled around in her head. She thought if she could just focus, she would understand, but she had no time. The dragon launched itself back into the air, and she fell into the rhythm of nock, draw, release, arrow, hearing the men around her shouting taunts at the dragon as they did the same. The dragon landed again, and she emerged from her hide, still firing.

The dragon saw her and cried out, “Dovahkiin? No!”

With that it fell, slain. She approached it with the intention of collecting her arrows when it seemed to become engulfed in flames. It wasn’t warm, though, and she took a few steps closer, intrigued. Suddenly, it seemed to burst into light, and she was surrounded by a roaring glow. She felt something… open in her mind, and she knew the meaning of the word she had seen in the Barrow. She felt it tingling under her fur, and she opened her mouth.

 _“Fus!”_ The word emerged with an almost physical presence, and the blow of it struck the now-skeletal remains of the dragon, causing it to rise up briefly.

The men and Irileth gathered around her and the remains of the dragon as she struggled to untangle her from the other she could feel in her head.

“I can’t believe it! You’re… Dragonborn!” the ringleader exclaimed. The gathered men murmured, and the stench of fear washed over her.

“Dar’adhavi thinks you might be right,” she replied, dazed. Then she chuckled. “Khajiit thinks this means several of you owe her drinks, yes?”

The men laughed, but she could still smell their fear on them. She glanced around and decided it would be best if she departed.

“The Jarl should be told. Khajiit is swiftest, she will go.”

She ducked away and began running back to Whiterun. She was still trying to process the sudden fear the men felt when the earth beneath her feet shook. The air rumbled with the force of a shout, greater in intensity than what she had managed.

“Dovahkiin!”

She looked in the direction she thought it had come from, and she realized hat she could see a building built high on the side of one of the mountains. As the last echoes faded away, she resumed her journey to the Jarl. She would have preferred the time to reflect, but she didn’t wish to stain her good standing.

Balgruuf was talking with his brother and the steward when she arrived. The men stopped when they saw her and she nodded a greeting.

“Well, what happened?” Balgruuf demanded.

“The tower was destroyed, but the dragon was slain.”

He studied her face as he digested her words. “And what more happened?”

She shrugged. It was likely that the men would be telling everyone, and she knew the Jarl would hear, regardless. “When the dragon fell, Khajiit absorbed some kind of power from it. The men say she is Dragonborn.”

“So it’s true. They Greybeards really were summoning you.”

“The Greybeards?”

He smiled kindly. “Masters in the Way of the Voice. When you killed the dragon, it must have revealed something in you that the Greybeards heard. Go to High Hrothgar, and they will teach you to use this gift.” He rose and stood before her. “You’ve done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It’s the greatest honor it is within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office.”

She blinked at him, stunned.

He grinned at her reaction. “I’ll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn’t want them thinking you’re part of the common rabble, now would we?” He sobered again. “We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn.”

He turned back to his steward, and she bowed quickly and left, still stunned. She asked one of the guards for the fastest way to High Hrothgar, and was directed to Riften, then Ivarstead. She heard the guards talking quietly to each other, and there was awe and fear written plainly on their faces when they looked at her. She pretended to not see, and went to find the carriage.

She paid him, and requested a ride to Riften. Once in the back, she dug out the book about the Dragonborn again. She stared at the phrase “and the Wheel turns on the last Dragonborn”. She had thought it funny at first, but seeing the reactions of the men, she was starting to think that this was not what she wanted. She knew what destiny demanded of her, but she wasn’t sure that she would do what was needed. She was a thief. Yes, she had dived into battle with glee in the past, but she never fought for honor or glory, just gold.

But the feel of the power when she slew the dragon… she could still feel the remnants of it, crackling under her fur. She lay her head back against the edge of the cart. She was a thief, and a damn good one. Following this path… she’d be famous. Well-known, and likely well-regarded. She sighed. The idea had its merits, but….

She sat up as the cart slowed, and took in her first sight of Riften. She could smell stagnant water, and desperation. She decided to go in, see if there was a temple. She didn’t think Sheggorath would be helpful with soul-searching, but maybe one of the Nine would.


	4. 3

As she approached the gate, she was stopped by one of the guardsmen. _This is getting quite annoying._ She waited while the guard assessed her.

He sneered at her. “Stop. You’ll need to pay the visitors’ tax to get in.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And what is this tax for, exactly, hmm?”

He rolled his eyes. “For the privilege of entering the city. Now, come on. I don’t have all day.”

She flicked an ear in amusement. Whoever was running this scam was good, but the actors could use some polishing. “Khajiit have good noses, and a scam smells worse than the Thalmor, no?” she asked with a smile.

The guard jumped. _Definitely could use the practice._ “All right, keep your voice down. You want everyone to hear you? Let me just unlock the gate.”

She narrowed her eyes, considering his words as he unlocked the gate. Apparently, not everyone agrees with this “gate tax”. _That might be useful…._ She entered the city and glanced around. She reconsidered her stop as she took in the sight of a sword for hire, a tough, and a shakedown in the immediate vicinity of the gate. Well, the sword for hire seemed to be focusing on a “guild” of thieves in the city, and the shakedown seemed to be about a lack of payment on a loan. The tough approached her as she walked past.

“I don’t know you. You in Riften looking for trouble?”

She mentally rolled her eyes. _Was everyone in this town trying to prove themselves dangerous?_

“Khajiit is just passing through.” She tried to walk past but the man stepped in front of her.

“Yeah? Well I got news for you. There’s nothing to see here. The last thing the Black-Briars need is some stranger stickin’ their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

 _Oh, lovely. A pet attack dog._ She walked past him, carefully lifting his coin purse as she did. She ignored his taunts as she left. He was looking for a brawl, and she was disinclined to give him one. She chuckled a bit when he called her a “good little dog”, though. It always amused her when people projected their shortcomings on others.

When she entered the market square, one of the merchants gestured her over. She went, wondering what he sold. There were some bottles set out, but they didn’t look like much. She studied the man. He was somewhat attractive, for a human, with red hair and a nice face.

“Never done an honest day’s work for all that coin you’re carrying, eh, lass?”

She studied him warily. “Khajiit is not certain her ears heard correctly?”

He chuckled a bit. “I’m saying you’ve got the coin, but you didn’t earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell.” His eyes were dancing with amusement as she picked up one of the bottles, pretending to examine it.

“And what makes you think you know anything about Dar’adhavi, hmm?”

He smiled. “It’s all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they’re wearing. It’s a dead giveaway.”

One of the others wandering around the market began to approach the stall. Dar’adhavi pinned her ears back and glared at the shopkeeper and watched the other turn to go the other way. “Just what do you mean?” she asked, her tone calm and even.

He nodded a bit, having seen the customer approach, and winked at her. “Look how you sniffed out my little scheme at the North Gate. You knew it was a shakedown and you called him on it. That’s what I’m talking about.”

She twitched her tail in interest. “You are well acquainted with the wealth of others, perhaps?”

He grinned at her. “Wealth is my business, lass. Help me out, and I can add to yours. Would you like a taste?”

She snorted at him. “One employs a taster for fear the food is poisoned, no? But say your price.”

“I’ve got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid.”

She made a show of considering it, then asked, “And what is it you need Dar’adhavi’s hands to do, exactly?”

“Simple. I’m going to cause a distraction,” he gestured with his chin at an Argonian selling jewelry, and again at a Dunmer sunning the stall closest to his. “And you’re going to steal Madesi’s silver ring from his strongbox, under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei’s pocket without him noticing.”

She pretended to study his wares some more, mind racing. She had a destiny, after all. But… she didn’t want it, and this seemed like her kind of fun. “Very well. Dar’adhavi is ready. Begin when you will.”

She set down the bottle and sauntered away, sneering over her shoulder when he called for everyone to gather around. She stalked around and ducked behind Madesi’s stand once everyone was distracted. She quickly picked the lock on the door to the stand, and the slightly better one on the strongbox. She left everything save the silver ring, closed everything up and straightened up. She sauntered around the well, and leaned on a box next to Brand-Shei, apparently listening raptly to his patter about an amazing new potion. She slid the ring into the Dunmer’s pocket, then stepped away, muttering about fraudsters.

She walked into the tavern and ordered a drink, waiting for the crowd to forget her. She had to admit, she was impressed. It was an impressive sounding patter that made no complete statement. She also considered the gate scam. It was masterful, for all that it was being executed by idiots. She finished her drink, decided. She would follow her destiny later, if ever. She was happier in the shadows, and the fear on the faces of the guards in Whiterun would haunt her for some time. She rose and went back out to the market.

“Well done, lass. Looks like I chose the right person for the job.”

She nodded, accepting his praise, and held out a hand silently.

He chuckled, but handed over a purse. “Here you go. Your payment, just as I promised. The way things have been going around here, it’s a relief our plan went off without a hitch.”

She cocked her head at that. “Oh? And what has been happening, Khajiit wonders?”

He shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed, but he waved it away. “Bah. My organization’s been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that’s just how it goes. But never mind that. You did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there’s more where that came from… if you think you can handle it.”

She smirked at him. “Khajiit can more than handle anything.”

He looked her over and nodded. “Alright then. Lets put that to the test. The group I represent has it’s home in the Ratway beneath Riften, in a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece, and we’ll see if you’ve really got what it takes.”

She poked around the town, asking questions and getting a feel for the layout. The guards didn’t seem to be as suspicious of a Khajiit as those in Whiterun, so she relaxed a bit. She was in an alley near the meadery when she saw Brynjolf leave his stand and make his way to the graveyard behind the temple. Intrigued, she waited a bit and headed to the temple, taking the covered walkway on the lower level. She couldn’t see Brynjolf, but she could hear him. He was in the small memorial backed against the temple. She tried to guess what he was doing, he didn’t strike her as the pious type, when her musings were cut short by the sound of stone grinding on stone.

She waited for a quarter of an hour, and when she heard nothing, she slipped out into the graveyard. She entered the memorial and began combing over every inch, searching for the mechanism. She grinned at the simplicity when she found it, hidden as the decorative carving on the front. She pressed it, and slipped through the opening. Pulling the chain to close the hidden door left her in a cramped and dark space, but she could see light shining through cracks in a well cover at her feet. She listened, but couldn’t hear any movement. Carefully, she lifted the cover and stood on the ladder beneath. She crouched down and studied the circular room. There were a few beds, some occupied, but she couldn’t see any movement.

She slipped through the room, careful not to wake any of the sleepers, and ducked down the first hallway. She could smell Brynjolf and a few others, and the ubiquitous scents of a cheap tavern: stale alcohol and piss. She carefully slipped through the door and grinned when she saw the panel ahead. She was certain it would be well concealed from the other side, but here, it was a simple door. She wouldn’t even need her picks to open this.

She lifted the latch, trying to keep it from making a click, and let the panel swing forward. The doors ahead of her proved her suspicions correct, as she found herself in a cabinet. She paused, straining her ears as she heard Brynjolf’s distinctive accent.

“I’ve found a damn good one in the market today. I’m sure she can help turn this around,” he was saying, and she heard his listeners scoff.

“Give it up, Brynjolf. Those days are over.”

“I’m telling you, this one is different.”

Another voice cut in. “We’ve all heard that one before, Bryn. Quit kidding yourself.”

The first voice chimed in. “It’s time to face the truth, old friend. You, Vex, Mercer… you’re all part of a dying breed. Things are changing.”

Dar’adhavi slipped out of the cabinet at that, and walked into the tavern. Brynjolf turned and beamed at her. “Dying breed, eh? Well, what do you call that, then?”

She gave a cocky bow, and a bald man started laughing. “Look at that. I don’t think anyone managed to sneak in the back before. Well done.”

“Well, well, color me impressed, lass. I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again.”

She shrugged. “Khajiit simply followed you. You almost lost her at the secret door, though.”

The bald man laughed again. “You hear that, Bryn? Only one Khajiit in the city, and you don't see her folowin’ ya.”

“Reliable and headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize. So, now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme in the market, how about handling some deadbeats for me?”

She flicked an ear at him. “And what did they do?”

He crossed his arms and studied her. “They owe our organization some serious coin and they've decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.”

She snorted at his phrasing, then asked, “And who shall Khajiit be explaining this to?”

“Keerava, Bersi Honey-hand, and Haelga. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

“And how should Dar’adhavi handle this task?” she asked, tail twitching at the thought.

He sighed. “Honestly, the debt is secondary here. What's more important is that you get the message out that we aren't to be ignored. A word of warning though, I don't want any of them killed. Bad for business.”

She twitched her ears in annoyance, but nodded. “It is as good as done.”

“Good. Now get going. I'll be here when you're done.”

She decided to go out the “front door”, and passed by a beggar who waved her through. She flicked a coin in his direction and he grinned at her. She walked through a door and onto a small ledge. She hauled on a lever to lower a walkway, lowering to a crouch when she heard voices ahead. There were two men that she could hear, discussing how the Thieves’ Guild would be displeased with their actions. She considered it for a moment, then drew her bow. She moved around a pillar until she had a clear shot, then shot the larger of the two in the neck. His companion whirled to face her, and she shot him in the eye. She took their coin purses and heaved the bodies out of the main path. She didn’t think anyone would miss them.

She walked up the stairs, crinkling her nose at the reek of the canal, and opened the door. She quickly crossed a small bridge and practically fled up the stairs. She decided to stop at the inn and collect Keerava’s debt first. As she made her way across the city she considered her options. Brynjolf struck her as a competent and thorough individual. If these people were not paying him, they likely wouldn’t give her the money if she just asked nicely. She considered what she had seen when last she was in the tavern, and decided to speak to Talen-Jai first. Unless she was deeply mistaken, he was courting her. She entered the tavern and sought out the Argonian.

“A word of advice, yes? You might wist to talk sense into Keerava,” she purred into his ear, smiling a bit as he jumped.

“What?”

“The Guild?” she prompted.

“Oh. With the rumors going around about how poorly your guild’s been doing, she’s become much too bold. I’m not that foolish. The last thing we need is a war with your people.” He looked around, uncertainly.

She decided to push a bit more. “Then help Dar’adhavi convince her to pay. It is for her own good….”

He sighed, defeated. “Look, I’m only telling you because I care for her. Don’t mistake this as acceptance for what you do.”

“Khajiit understands. She has you by the tail, and you have little choice. But please, you were saying?”

“Keerava has some family at a farm just inside of Morrowind. If you mention you know about it, she might just listen to you. Just please, don’t harm anyone. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“Worry not. The Guild disapproves of bloodshed. We are not the Brotherhood.” She left him, and approached the bar, and Keerava.

“Are you ready to pay Brynjolf what you owe?”

The Argonian sneered at her. “No, and I never will. Now get out of my inn!”

Dar’adhavi made a show of thinking. “Khajiit hears stories, yes? Of a little farm in Morrowind?”

Keerava’s jaw dropped. “How could you possibly know about…?” Her tone turned pleading. “Please. My family means too much to me. Don’t hurt them.”

“Then pay, and Khajiit will forget she ever heard anything.”

“Very well.” She pulled out a pouch and counted some coins into it. “Here. Take this back to Brynjolf and tell him he’ll have no more trouble from me.”

Dar’adhavi nodded and left the inn, heading to the bunkhouse Haelga ran for the fishery. She had seen Haelga in the market, and based on the amulet she wore, Dar’adhavi assumed she would have a shrine somewhere. She peered through the windows of the bunkhouse and smiled to herself when she saw the statue.

She slid in through a partly-open door and picked up the statue and approached Haelga. The woman paled when she saw it in Dar’adhavi’s hands.

“Please! Don’t take the statue! It’s the only thing of value I have left!”

Dar’adhavi studied her coldly. “It would be a shame if this statue were accidentally dropped down the well, no?

“I get the message. Here, take your gold. I hope you choke on it!”

Dar’adhavi carefully placed the statue on the counter and took the purse. She left the bunkhouse and made her way to the Pawned Prawn. She had seen several people talking as she worked, and she assumed that Bersi would have heard of her by now. She entered the shop and bit back a grin when the man paled.

“Oh no! You’re the one from Brynjolf’s outfit, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Khajiit has a message-”

He cut her off. “Oh, there’s no need for that. I know why you’re here. Tell Brynjolf not to worry about it anymore. Oh, and look! I even have the payment I owed. Here, take it.” He shoved a purse at her and she left, waiting until she was back in the Ratway to start laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we made it to Riften!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Check out my Tumblr: p1ratew3nch.tumblr.com


	5. 4

She made her way back to the Flagon, nodding to the bouncer, who sneered at her. She grinned, and saw Brynjolf waving her over. She went, pulling out the purses she’d been given.

“So. Job’s done and you even brought the gold. Best of all you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive.”

She nodded, handing over the purses. “Here is what those deadbeats owed you.”

He took them. “Well done. And it would seem I owe you something in return.” He pulled a small sack from under his chair and handed it to her. She heard the clink of bottles and pulled some out. Mostly healing, but a couple of True Shot. She tucked them back in and nodded. “There you go. I think you’ll find those quite useful.”

“So, what happens next?”

“Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I’d say you’ve done more than simply prove yourself. We need people like you in our outfit.”

She grinned. “If it leads to more gold, Dar’adhavi is happy to play along.”

“That’s the spirit! Larceny’s in your blood, the telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you’ll do more than just fit in around here.” He rose, and she held out a hand.

“Before we go, Dar’adhavi must ask something…”

He turned back to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Dar’adhavi has heard that times are hard for your organization… is this true?”

“We’ve run into a rough patch lately, but it’s nothing to be concerned about. Tell you what. You keep making us coin and I’ll worry about everything else. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”

“Now, if there are no more questions, how about following me and officially seeing the Cistern?”

She rose and followed him. “Khajiit is not going to apologize for sneaking. It is why you hired her, yes?”

He just laughed and led the way to the middle of the room. There was another man waiting, one she hadn’t seen before. She felt her tail puff as she approached him, and did her best to keep it low and out of sight. The man Brynjolf was leading her to was dangerous, and she couldn’t tell how none of the rest seemed to notice.

She stopped when Brynjolf did, and waited. 

“Mercer? This is the one I was talking about… our new recruit.”

Mercer glared at Brynjolf. “This better not be another waste of the Guild’s resources, Brynjolf.” He turned to Dar’adhavi, and she straightened reflexively. “Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions. You do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly. Khajiit understands.”

“Good. Then I think it’s time to put your expertise to the test.”

Brynjolf looked surprised at that. “Wait a moment, you’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn’t get in.”

Mercer waved that off. “You claim this recruit possess an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it.” He turned back to her. “Goldenglow is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details.” He turned to leave, and Brynjolf stopped him.

“Mercer, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Mercer seemed a bit confused, then realization hit. “Hmm? Oh, yes.” Turning back to Dar’adhavi, he continued. “Since Brynjolf assures me you’ll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you’re in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.” He left, and Dar’adhavi took a breath.

Brynjolf smiled at her. “Welcome to the family, lass. I’m expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don’t disappoint me.”

“So, how can Dar’adhavi get her cut of the spoils?”

“Simple. Do as you’re told and keep your blade clean. We can’t turn a profit by killing. You should talk to Delvin Mallory and Vex. They know their way around this place and they’ll be able to kick some extra jobs your way. Oh, and talk to Tonilia in the flagon. She’ll set you up with your new armor.”

She nodded, then asked, “Tell Dar’adhavi about the Goldenglow job.”

“Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm; they raise the wretched little things for honey. It’s owned by some smart-mouth Wood Elf named Aringoth. We need you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate’s hives and clearing out the safe in the main house.”

“Dar’adhavi senses a catch….”

“The catch is that you can’t burn the whole place to the ground. That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did.”

“Dar’adhavi understands. There is sense in this.”

“Aye. The last thing we want to be doing is crossing our clients.”

“What would you have Dar’adhavi do about Aringoth?”

“Maven prefers that Aringoth remains alive, but if he tries to stop you from getting the job done, kill him.” He shrugged. “The Guild has a lot riding on this. Don’t make me look foolish by mucking it up.” She turned to return to the Flagon, but Brynjolf grabbed her arm. “You watch yourself on that island. Those mercenaries don’t take prisoners.”

He released her and walked away. She watched him go, then returned to the Flagon. She heard Delvin call her name and she dropped into the seat across from him. He grinned at her, eyes twinkling.

“Brynjolf, eh? Lemme guess. He plucked you off the street and dropped you into the thick of things without tellin’ you which way is up. Am I right?”

She cocked an eyebrow and shot a pointed look at the door to the Cistern, then back at him. “Well, good advice never hurt anyone, although it is seldom without a price.”

He snorted. “See, that kind of attitude comes from someone who wants to get rich and stay alive long enough to enjoy it. We’re goin’ to get along nicely. But, since you had the most entertainin’ entrance I’ve seen in a while, this one’ll be free. Take all the jobs you can, and help us get the Guild back on it’s feet.”

“Back on it’s feet, hmm?”

He gestured around the Flagon. “Look around you. The Flagon, the Guild… it’s all fallin’ apart. A few decades ago, this place was as busy as the Imperial City. Now, you’ll be lucky if you don’t trip over a skeever instead.”

She folded her hands and rested her chin on her wrists. “Khajiit senses a story in this.”

He waved that away. “Look, I know the others think I’m a bit daft for sayin’ stuff like this, but I’m gonna give it to you straight. Somethin’ out there is piss-drunk mad at us. I don’t know who or what it is, but it’s beyond just you and me. We’ve been cursed.”

Her ears perked up at that. “A curse? Then something must be done about it, no?”

“I’ll tell you what we do. We spit in that curse’s face and turn things around down here. Put things back the way they were. That’s where you come in. Go out there and make them remember us, and we’ll both come out of this smellin’ like a rose.”

She nodded. “Know anything about Goldenglow, perhaps?”

“Yeah. Watch yourself out there. The mercenaries Aringoth hired are trained killers. Just ask our poor little Vex.” He nodded at a lithe blond at another table, and she excused herself and walked over.

The blonde glared up at her. “Before we begin, I want to make two things perfectly clear. One, I’m the best infiltrator this rathole of a guild’s got, so if you think you’re here to replace me, you’re dead wrong.And two, you follow my lead and do exactly as I say- no questions, no excuses.”

Dar’adhavi leaned back and looked the other woman up and down. “You may be someone important around here, but back off. Khajiit knows the drill.”

Vex laughed and gestured to the chair opposite her. “Now you I like. I’ve been getting sick of the pushovers that usually walk in here. I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Now, it’s time to get your feet wet and I don’t want to waste a lot of time talking about anything but business.”

“What sort of business, hmm?”

“I’m not going to sugar-coat it for you. We’re in a bad way down here. Who knows. Old Delvin thinks its some kind of curse. I think he’s crazy. If you want my opinion, it’s just plain old bad luck.”

“So, what can this one do?”

“You can get out there and start making a name for us again. Make them start fearing us like they did long ago. And, while you’re at it, make a little bit of coin on the side. Not a bad deal, eh?”

“Dar’adhavi has heard you ran into trouble at Goldenglow-”

Vex snorted. “Yeah I did. That Wood Elf swit. He’s a lot smarter than I expected. Can you believe that fetcher had more than tripled the guard? There must be eight of them in there. It was like he was daring us to come in and get him.” 

Dar’adhavi nodded and rose heading out. She stopped to visit the fence for her armor and some other supplies, then walked out, passing Brynjolf. 

She heard him murmur, “All eyes are on you, lass. Don’t disappoint us.”

She headed out of the Flagon and up the secret exit. She waited until she was sure she was alone, then pulled the chain, letting the door slide open. It was night, and she figured that this would be the best time to approach the estate. She slunk toward Goldenglow, deciding to make a scene first. She paused in some bushes, looking along the bridge to Goldenglow proper. She couldn’t see the mercenaries she had been warned of, but decided caution was warranted, anyway. She drifted along the bridge, staying low, and veered off to the hillock where she heard the drone of bees. She tucked herself against a wall and drew the three special arrows she had bought. Carefully, she lit them on the torch above her, then moved on to the far side of the wall. Swiftly she fired off the arrows, dropping down to the narrow shore once the hives were alight. She heard men yelling, and she silently slipped into the water, swimming toward the main house. She pulled the Guild armor out of the oiled sack she had placed it in and swiftly donned it, abandoning the stolen armor under the bridge. 

She stuck to the shadows and approached a side door, swiftly unlocking it and ducking inside. Most of the guards had abandoned their post in the house, and she saw the Bosmer who could only be Aringoth berating the mercs through a window. She cautiously approached him and lifted his keys, ducking under a table when he turned. She heard him storm outside and grinned. She got a bit lost, but found a small statue of a bee that she pocketed before she found the stairs to the basement. She slunk through the basement, deftly avoiding the guard and soon found the safe. Opening it with Aringoth’s key, she found a fair amount of coin and a piece of paper. She read it, firmly believing that messengers should know their message, and was confused to see that it was a bill of sale. There was no signature, only a small sigil. She stuck the paper in a pocket and found a grate in the floor. Wrinkling her nose, she dropped down into the sewers below.

 _Become a thief, they said. It’s glamorous, they said. I have spent more times in water and sewers than I ever did as a farmer’s daughter,_ she snarled to herself, working out some of her frustration on the skeevers that lay in her path. She emerged on the far side of the island and considered her options. The mercs were still busy with the hives, so she chanced the road. She was glad she made the main road unseen, and continued to skulk until she reached the walls of Riften. She climbed it fairly easily, and ducked back into the memorial and the hidden door. She looked around, and saw Brynjolf waiting. 

He approached her, and she matched his grin. “Word on the street is Goldenglow got hit. Good job.”

“Yes. Khajiit has what was in the safe.” She drew the paper. 

Brynjolf took it and studied it, brows lowering as he read. “Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What's that idiot thinking? He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal, but I'm certain he'll find out. If only the parchment had the buyer's name instead of this odd symbol. Any idea what that may be?” 

She shook her head, then grabbed for the wall when she began swaying. “No, Khajiit has never seen such before.”

“Blast. Well, I'll check my sources and ask Mercer. But for now, you're off to bed. You’ve done well, and deserve a rest.” 

He walked off, and she looked around. Spotting the nearest empty bed, she collapsed onto it, toeing off her boots as she lay there. She wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in armor, but she was too exhausted to get up again.

She found herself in the courtyard again, but couldn’t see Haskill anywhere. She sat under a strange _some kind of tree? _plant and let her mind wander. She knew that she was shirking, but it was all too much. She was a thief. She’d be a thief. She drifted until her body woke up, and she rolled out of bed, groaning. Sleeping in armor always left her sore in the morning.__

__She put on her boots and headed over to the food cupboard. She waved at some of the others, but was stopped by Brynjolf._ _

__“Eat fast, you’ve got a meeting with Maven Black-Briar. She asked for you by name.”_ _

__She blinked at him. “Khajiit have claws, yes, but this Maven sounds like a scary woman.”_ _

__He chuckled. “If it was like that she wouldn't be asking for you, she'd be calling the Dark Brotherhood. It's just business.”_ _

__She grabbed a loaf of bread. “And what does she want with this one?”_ _

__He shrugged as she took a bite. “That's between you and Maven and I prefer to keep it that way. Just keep your ears open and your mouth shut and you'll do fine. Don't worry about it. Maven's business dealings usually involve quite a bit of gold for her people.”_ _

__She held out a hand. “Speaking of gold….”_ _

__He laughed and drew out a purse. “Of course...your pay. You're smart as a whip, lass. Keep doing right by us and there'll be plenty more where that came from.”_ _

__He left to return to the market and she finished her breakfast. She stopped into the Flagon to see if she could sell the statue she found. Tonilia wasn’t interested, but Delvin seemed excited. He gave her a fair price, and asked her to bring any other trinkets she found to him. She nodded and headed out to the Bee and Barb to meet with Maven._ _

__She was waiting upstairs, and raked Dar’adhavi with a glance. “So, you're the one. Hmm. You don't look so impressive.”_ _

__Dar’adhavi decided to play up the subservience. She understood that the Guild needed her, for now, but once the Guild was secure, she would do her best to see this particular poison removed. “Khajiit understands you have a job.”_ _

__Maven almost smiled. “You have to understand, it's been a long time since Brynjolf's sent me anyone I can rely on.”_ _

__“You have no faith in the Guild?”_ _

__“Faith?” Maven laughed. “I don't have faith in anyone. All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done and was it done correctly. There's no gray area.”_ _

__“Khajiit assures you, you will not have that problem with her.”_ _

__“I hope not. This is an important job. I have a competitor called Honningbrew Meadery that I want to put out of business. I also want to know how they got the place up and running so quickly.”_ _

__Dar’adhavi nodded. “Where should she begin?”_ _

__“Head to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun and ask for Mallus Maccius. He'll fill you in on all the details.” She turned away, dismissing her._ _

__Dar’adhavi turned to leave, and paused when Maven addressed her again._ _

__“One more time in case I wasn't clear. You butcher this job and you'll be sorry.”_ _

__Dar’adhavi headed out to the stables, deciding to buy a horse. She had more than enough, and she had a feeling it would simplify matters. She put down the coin for a calm, well-trained dapple gray and rode off toward Whiterun, thinking of names for the horse. The Nords didn’t believe in naming their horses, expecting to lose them in battle, but Dar’adhavi felt they deserved them. The road was open, and she let the mare run, reveling in the power she held._ _

__“How about ‘Rogue’, hmm? Though, that suits Dar’adhavi more than you. ‘Twilight’ suits your coloring. Hmm. Dar’adhavi likes ‘Rogue’. How about you?” The mare nodded her head, and Dar’adhavi laughed. “All right, then, Rogue it is.”_ _

__She rode on, leaving Rogue at the stables and entering the city. She made her way to the Bannered Mare, ignoring the looks she was getting. Apparently, word was going around about her. She entered the tavern and found Mallus in the back room. She sat in the empty chair and studied him._ _

__He snarled, “Can't a man drink in peace?”_ _

__“Khajiit believes we have a mutual friend?”_ _

__He snorted. “Right. I'm going to keep this short 'cause we've got a lot to do. Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard, and we're going to poison the mead.”_ _

__She twitched her tail at that. “And you have this poison?”_ _

__“No, no. That's the beauty of the whole plan. We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us. The meadery has quite a pest problem and the whole city knows about it. Pest poison and mead don't mix well, you know what I mean?” He seemed pleased with the idea._ _

__“And what role does Khajiit play in this?”_ _

__“You're going to happen by and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand. He's going to give you the poison to use on the pests, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing vat.” He was definitely pleased with the idea. Dar’adhavi felt her skin crawl._ _

__“Most impressive.”_ _

__He preened at the compliment. “Maven and I spent weeks planning this. All we need is someone like you to get in there and get it done. Now get going before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do the dirty work.”_ _

___So, Maven needed a patsy, and the Guild was her first thought? And why does Mercer keep up this alliance? We gain little for what we pay, and Maven seems fond of removing our “protection”,_ she thought to herself as she headed out to the meadery. She considered her options. She didn’t know this Sabjorn, but she wasn’t certain he deserved what was about to happen to him. She wondered briefly if she could flub this mission deliberately, but no. The Guild was barely holding on as it was, and would need a stronger base before Maven could be removed. Besides, she was new to this Guild. There might be more that was being kept from her._ _

__She shook off her speculation and entered the meadery. There was a man standing over a dead skeever by the counter and she raised an eyebrow._ _

__“What are you gawking at? Can't you see I have problems here?” the man snarled._ _

__“Having problems?” she asked._ _

__The man spat. “Are you kidding me? Look at this place. I'm supposed to be holding a tasting of the new Honningbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard. If he sees the meadery in this state, I'll be ruined.”_ _

__She pretended to think about it. “Perhaps Khajiit could help.”_ _

__He sneered at her. “Oh really? And I don't suppose you'd just do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you? I hope you're not expecting to be paid until the job's done.”_ _

__She raised an eyebrow. _So, perhaps he does deserve this…._ “It would be a simple thing to yell ‘skeever’, no?”_ _

__He paled and raised his hands. “Okay, okay. No need to make rash decisions. Here's half. You get the rest when the job's done. My only demand is that these vermin are permanently eliminated before my reputation is completely destroyed.”_ _

__She pocketed the money, then asked, “And how would you see this problem eliminated?”_ _

__He handed her a large bottle. “I bought some poison. I was going to have my lazy, good-for-nothing assistant Mallus handle it, but he seems to have vanished. If you plant this in the vermin's nest, it should stop them from ever coming back.”_ _

__She nodded and headed toward the meadery’s basement._ _

__“Don't come back until every one of those things are dead!” he called after her._ _

__She shook her head and drew her bow._ _

__She emerged from the cavern under the meadery, fully intending to gut Mallus. _I’ll just bet he had something to do with that madman being there._ She had found the nest, and a crazy mage who was apparently intent on breeding skeevers and frostbite spiders. Once he was dead, she poisoned the nest, as promised, but saved a half-dose for the vat. She didn’t want the guard to die, but she didn’t want to damage the Guild’s precarious position._ _

__She re-entered the main room, and was told to wait for the tasting to end before she would receive the rest of her payment. She sat in a chair, watching as the captain entered and was presented with a sample. Sabjorn’s servile act made her pin her ears back in annoyance, and the glee she saw in Mallus’s face nauseated her. The captain drank, but noticed the taste of the poison in the mead. He arrested Sabjorn and placed Mallus in charge. Once he had marched out with Sabjorn, she wheeled on Mallus. He started gloating, but she cut him off._ _

__“Why did you not inform Khajiit of the madman in the tunnels?” she hissed, furious._ _

__He held up his hands defensively. “I thought it would be better to leave some of the details out of our previous discussion. Didn't want to risk you walking away from th job. Besides, you've done Maven a favor getting rid of him and saved me from wasting coin hiring someone else to do it later.”_ _

__She growled at him. “Idiot. Khajiit needs to see Sabjorn’s books. Do what you must, but leave her be.”_ _

__She went upstairs and found Sabjorn’s office. She dug around in his desk, pocketing a fancy decanter she might be able to sell to Delvin, and found a promissory note. The writer had signed it with the same sigil she had seen on the bill of sale from Goldenglow. She shoved it in a pocket and considered. It was late enough, and she didn’t want to ride through the night. She returned to the Bannered Mare and rented a room. She lay in the bed, thinking. Finally, she rose and donned the Guild armor. She snuck out of the inn and visited several of the homes and shops in Whiterun, helping herself to whatever struck her fancy._ _

__Satisfied, her pack carrying a number of small and quite valuable items, she returned to her rented bed and slept._ _

__Once again, she found herself in the courtyard. She walked around, not wanting to enter the palace, and began to scale it instead. Once she reached the roof, she sat and watched the sky. The riot of colors and stars soothed her, somehow. She flicked an ear when she heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t look over. She continued ignoring her companion until they sighed and sat next to her._ _

__“You know, I do believe that that is the best part of My realm. No one else seems to agree, though.”_ _

__She froze when Sheogorath began speaking, and He laughed._ _

__“Calm yourself, kitten. Your opponent is very confused at the moment, and you’re doing a favor for a friend of Mine. You will have to go back to that, though. It is what I told you to do. But there’s time.”_ _

__She looked over, surprised to see him laying on his back, watching the sky. Cautiously, she lay back down._ _

__“Dar’adhavi does not wish for this,” she said quietly. “She would like to save the world, maybe, but she does not want their fear.”_ _

__Sheogorath looked over at her, then back at the sky with a sigh. “Unfortunately, kitten, the fear comes with the territory. My suggestion? Learn to wield it like a weapon. You’ll need it.”_ _

__She studied him in silence for a while. “Khajiit does not wish to seem forward, my Lord, but You seem… calmer than when she last saw You.”_ _

__He chuckled, but said nothing. She watched the sky with her Lord until she felt herself waking up._ _

__She rose and dressed, collecting her horse and beginning the ride back to Riften. She spent most of the ride thinking over what the Daedric prince had said, and wondered at the “friend” comment. She wondered if the “friend” was the one who had cursed the Guild._ _

__She shook herself from her reverie when she heard a horse approaching from behind her._ _

__“Morning, kit. Job went well, I take it?” Delvin asked as he drew his horse alongside._ _

__She grinned. “Indeed. Dar’adhavi has a trinket that might interest you, but also carries a mystery. Khajiit is not looking forward to showing it to Maven.”_ _

__She dug the decanter out of her pack, and Delvin whistled. “Well, now. I’ve been looking for this little beauty.”_ _

__She handed it over and waited while he dug out a purse and handed it to her. They rode in companionable silence for a while, then she decided to ask what was bothering her. She didn’t think Delvin would rat her out._ _

__“Why does the Guild follow Mercer? It seems to Dar’adhavi that He cares little for his fellows. And the arrangement with Maven seems to this one to be weighted in her favor. The Guild does not seem to benefit as much as she.”_ _

__Delvin snorted, then seemed to consider his words. “I keep forgettin’ that you’re new to this. The old Guildmaster was a brilliant thief, name of Gallus. He fell in love with a Guildmate, Karliah. She, Gallus, and Mercer ran the show. Karliah killed Gallus, and Mercer took over. He does a good job at it, he’s just not good with people. Takes some gettin’ used to._ _

__“As for Maven…,” he sighed. “I understand what you’re sayin’ about that, but right now, if we get her mad at us, she’d destroy us. Truth be told, I’d like to see the Guild out from under her heel, too.”_ _

__She hummed in agreement, and the two rode the rest of the way to Riften in silence. Delvin took the horses, and Dar’adhavi made her way back to the Bee and Barb. She found Maven waiting, and bowed._ _

__“I trust you have good news for me.”_ _

__“Khajiit finished, and has the information you wanted.” She proffered the papers and Maven snatched them away, scanning them._ _

__Her brow furrowed, and she read the note carefully, then looked up with a scowl. “This doesn't tell me much. The only thing that can identify Sabjorn's partner is this odd little symbol.”_ _

__Dar’adhavi nodded. “Khajiit has seen such before.”_ _

__Maven sneered. “Well, whoever this mysterious marking represents, they'll regret starting a war with me. You should bring this information to the Thieves Guild immediately. There's also the matter of your payment. I believe you'll find this more than adequate for your services.” She handed over the note and a purse and stormed out of the inn._ _

__Dar’adhavi watched her go, then headed back to the Guild. She found Brynjolf in the training room and grinned when he saw her._ _

__“Word on the street is that poor Sabjorn has found himself in Whiterun's prison. How unfortunate for him,” he began._ _

__“Yet so very fortunate for Maven, hmm?” she replied._ _

__He laughed. “Exactly! Now you're beginning to see how our little system works. Maven sent word that you'd discovered something else while you were out there. Something important to the Guild?”_ _

__She handed over the promissory note. She saw his eyes narrow when he saw the sigil._ _

__“Then this is beyond coincidence. First Aringoth and now Sabjorn. Someone's trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild.”_ _

__She shrugged. “And what is to be done?”_ _

__“Mercer thinks he knows a way to identify this new thorn in our side. He wants to meet with you right away. And if I were you, I'd hurry. I've never seen him this angry before.”_ _

__She nodded and headed for Mercer’s desk. She had been hoping she wouldn’t have to work for him directly, but she would do as instructed._ _


	6. 5

She found Mercer at his desk, poring over the bill of sale from Goldenglow.

“Sir? You wished to speak to this one?”

He looked up at her. “Ah, there you are. I've consulted my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow Estate, but no one can identify that symbol.”

“Khajiit found the same symbol at Honningbrew.”

He considered this. “It would see our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever.”

She was surprised. “Khajiit would almost think you admire them.”

He bared his teeth in what she thought was meant to be a grin. “They're well-funded and they've been able to avoid identification for years. I'm surprised it reached this point. Just don't mistake my admiration for complacency; our nemesis is going to pay dearly.”

She nodded. “You have a plan, yes? To make them pay?”

He nodded at the page before him. “Even after all their posturing and planning, they've made a mistake. The parchment you recovered mentions a "Gajul-Lei". According to my sources, that's an old alias used by one of our contacts. His real name is Gulum-Ei. Slimy bastard.”

“And what would you have Khajiit do?”

“Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Company in Solitude. I'm betting he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow Estate and that he can finger our buyer. Get out there, shake him down and see what you come up with. Talk to Brynjolf before you leave if you have any questions.

“Aringoth was a fool to think he could get away with this.”

She headed back to Brynjolf to get his impression of the Argonian, then headed out to the stable to collect her horse. She wondered at the people Mercer surrounded the Guild with, considering that everyone seemed to agree that Gulum-Ei had no morals or code, yet the Guild kept him in position. She wondered why the person or people were trying to destroy the Guild. She stopped for the night in a small hamlet called Rorikstead, and fell into her bed, wondering what would happen tonight.

Once back in the courtyard, she was surprised to see one of the gold-clad guards waiting.

“My Lord wished you to have this,” she said stiffly, handing Dar’adhavi another of the orbs. Once she took it, the guard stalked off.

Dar’adhavi shrugged, then settled down under the overhanging roots of the massive tree that dominated one half of the courtyard. She rolled the orb in her hands, then sighed and gazed into it.

There was a small town being attacked by a dragon. She looked closer, and recognized Rorikstead. She watched, helpless as the dragon razed the town to the ground, the farmers unable to mount any kind of defense. She woke, startled.

She packed her gear and saddled her horse, intending to be long gone before the dragon arrived. She was on the road, up a small hill, when something made her turn back. She thought she saw the black dragon from Helgen flying away, but her attention was taken by the sight of a dragon rise from the hills above the town, and heard the guards call to rally their fellows. She turned to leave, then, swearing at herself, dismounted and ran back to the town. She stood in a field, away from the houses, and shouted the first thing that came to mind.

“Anhok, hefhah! Avok het!”[“Hey, idiot! Over here!”]

The dragon whirled when it heard her, and she ducked behind a stone well as it flamed at her. This time she heard the words in the fire. Narrowing her eyes, she leaned around the wall, shouting “Yol toor shul!”[Fire inferno sun]

She blinked in surprise when a gout of flame struck the dragon, but she didn’t have time to react. She jumped over the well, landing on the dragon’s head. She shot between her feet, and leapt clear as the dragon thrashed in its death throes. She braced herself as the roaring glow swept over her again, and she looked around. The guards were gaping at her, but none seemed to want to get closer.

She waved merrily and went to find her horse. As she rode off, she realized she hadn’t been speaking a language she knew. She knew she had insulted the dragon, but not the tongue in which she had done so. It was somewhat unnerving to speak a language she didn’t know. She also didn’t get the impression that it was a gift from Sheggorath, either.

She decided to wait and see, and ignored the little niggling voice in the back of her mind, reminding her of the Greybeards and what Balgruuf had said about them. She came across a hunter’s camp and had ridden past when she realized what she had seen.

She turned Rogue around and stared at the camp. Specifically, she stared at the tethered frostbite spiders in a pen in the middle of the camp. She heard someone laughing, and she flicked an ear, unwilling to look away.

“You look like you have questions, traveler.”

“Khajiit has several, but she assumes you’ve heard them many times before.”

She finally looked around, taking in the laughing faces on the Nords lounging around the site.

“You’re probably right. We’re hunters. We kill spiders. We’ve found how to harvest the silk to make rope.”

Her ears pricked up at that. “Would not the rope be sticky and useless?”

The man tossed her a coil of a gleaming white rope, and she caught it. It was incredibly light and felt like silk in her hands. She measured out how much she held, and was surprised at the length. A hemp rope of the same length would weigh dozens of pounds. This weighed barely as much as an arrow.

“But are they strong enough?” she asked.

One of the women laughed. “You’ve ever seen a frostbite spider catch a mammoth? They can hang a full-grown bull mammoth with one strand of this stuff. We braid ten of them. Makes it easier to hold.”

“Khajiit is intrigued by this. How much would you charge her for this?”

The man who had tossed it to her spat. “Take it. You’re the first whose been willing to try it.”

She nodded, folding the rope into her pack. “If Khajiit is satisfied, she will inform her comrades.”

She continued on her journey to Solitude, thinking. If she truly had seen the black dragon, and she’d hazard a guess that it was the World-Eater in the prophecy, then he was bringing back dragons. _Could he resurrect the ones I’ve killed?_ She shook away the thought and focused on the current mission.

She stabled Rogue and hiked her way up to the city walls. She walked into the Winking Skeever, scanning the main room for Gulum-Ei. She found him, tucked away into a small alcove, and sat across from him.

He studied her over his mug, and she stared back. “So, what do we have here? Hmm...let me guess. By your scent, I'd say you were from the Guild. But that can't be true, because I told Mercer I wouldn't deal with them anymore.”

She smiled at that, showing her teeth. _So, that’s how you want it to go…._ “Khajiit has questions, Argonian, about Goldenglow estate.”

“I don't deal in land or property. Now, if you're looking for goods, you've come to the right person.”

She widened her grin. “Khajiit has seen better actors in her time, Gajul-Lei.”

He jumped, startled, then glanced around warily. “Oh, wait...did you say Goldenglow Estate? My apologies. I'm sorry to say I know very little about that...bee farm, was it?” he asked, eyes darting toward the door.

“You were acting as broker for the new owner,” she said, flatly.

He looked around cagily. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I can't be expected to remember every deal I handle.”

She sighed. “And what would it take to assist your memory?”

“Well, now that you mention it, there is something I've been trying to get my hands on. I have a buyer looking for a case of Firebrand Wine. There just so happens to be a single case in the Blue Palace. Bring it to me, and we'll talk about Goldenglow Estate.”

She stared at him steadily. “It is true that you are our only contact in the East Empire Company, it is also true that contacts can be replaced. Khajiit is certain she could find a competent replacement for you very swiftly.”

The Argonian scoffed. “You wouldn’t kill me. I’m the only contact you have.”

She took on a look of feigned surprise. “Khajiit said nothing of killing you. Khajiit would prefer to hear your screams, and smell your blood. As she said, you can be replaced.” She bared her teeth in a grin. “Khajiit is impatient, and hungry, Argonian. Tell what you know, or you will see just what she learned with the Renrijra Krin.”

He paled at that, his jaw dropping. “I'll tell you what I know. I was approached by a woman who wanted me to act as the broker for something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face and said all I had to do was pay Aringoth for the estate. I brought him the coin and walked away with her copy of the deed.”

“Did she say why?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I tend not to ask too many questions when I'm on the job. I'm sure you understand. However, I did notice she was quite angry and it was being directed at Mercer Frey.”

She studied his face, then grabbed his hand, digging in her talons and dislocating a finger. “Khajiit thinks you do not tell her the entire truth,” she said mildly.

“It's Karliah… her name is Karliah,” he whimpered, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

She considered, keeping hold of his hand. “Where is Karliah now?”

“I don't know. When I asked her where she was going, she just muttered ‘where the end began’. Here, take the Goldenglow Estate deed as proof. And when you speak to Mercer, tell him I'm worth more to him alive.”

“Khajiit also hears that your payment to the Guild has dwindled….”

He yelped as she increased the pressure. “Alright, alright! I’ve been holding back, but I’ll send it! Please!”

She let him go and rose. “Khajiit thanks you for your cooperation.” She gave a small bow and left, tucking the deed into her pocket. 

She decided to check out the East Empire warehouse, just to be thorough. She slunk through the shelves upon shelves of goods, making her way to a small building set into the wall. She took the map, and several coin purses, and was making her way down when she realized she smelled fresh air. She ducked behind a barrel and studied the shelves. She saw a door behind them, and cast around for a way to get there. She found it, silently cursing whoever built the path for making it pass through waist-deep water, and ducked inside.

She found herself in another cavern, loaded with more shelves and goods, but these weren’t as ordered as the ones in the warehouse. She slunk through, avoiding the bandits that seemed to be running the show, and found the central chamber. She shook her head at the sheer quantity of merchandise that had been taken, there was no way they could fence it all without the Guild noticing, and pulled the lever to open the back passage. She wrinkled her nose at the horkers on the far side, but hurried past and found herself overlooking the lighthouse. She marked the entrance on her map, leaving a shadowmark on a rock near the entrance, and decided to tell Vex about it. She’d have fun in there.

She gathered her horse and rode off, stopping in Dragon Bridge for the night. She stayed in the inn, and when she slept, she was left alone in the courtyard. She climbed the palace again to watch the sky, working over everything she had seen. With the dragon, and the Guild… she sighed. She was happy with the Guild, mostly. She wasn’t certain that Mercer had been telling the truth about Karliah. According to what everyone said, only Mercer saw what happened.

She glared at the sky. So, she couldn’t do anything about the Guild. Fine. She was fairly sure Alduin was bringing back dead dragons. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but it was like the language and the shouting. It simply was. She had no idea what to do about him, though. She could find these Greybeards, but they were Nords. Everyone was making connections to when they had summoned Talos, and she was terrified of what it meant for her. She was a thief, and apparently chosen by the Skooma Cat. She couldn’t possibly be placed on the same level with one of the Nine. It was madness.

She rose in the morning and continued to Riften, still unsure of her next steps. She waved at Thrynn as he headed out and made her way to the Cistern. She paused at the top of the ladder, then braced herself and descended. She made her way to Mercer’s desk and tried not to jump when he glared at her.

“Did Gulum-Ei give up any information on our buyer?” he demanded when she was closer.

She nodded, pulling out the deed. “Goldenglow was purchased by Karliah.”

He snatched the papers from her, paling. “No, it… it can't be. I haven't heard that name in decades. This is grave news indeed. She's someone I hoped to never cross paths with again.”

Dar’adhavi studied him, and crinkled her nose slightly at the scent of true fear coming off Mercer. Hmm… Maybe Delvin was right. Maybe he’s just bad with people. She cleared her throat. “Khajiit has heard some of Karliah from Delvin. He said she was a murderer.”

“Karliah destroyed everything this guild stood for. She murdered my predecessor in cold blood and betrayed the Guild. After we discovered what she'd done, we spent months trying to track her down, but she just vanished.”

She cocked her head. “Then why has she chosen to return?”

Mercer shook his head. “Karliah and I were like partners. I went with her on every heist. We watched each other's backs. I know her techniques, her skills. If she kills me, there'll be no one left that could possibly catch her. If only we knew where she was…”

 _You didn’t actually answer the question…_ “Gulum-Ei said she was ‘where the end began’.”

Mercer narrowed his eyes. “There's only one place that could be. The place where she murdered Gallus...a ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum. We have to go out there before she disappears again.”

She blinked in shock. “We?”

Mercer’s grin was feral. “Yes, I'm going with you and together we're going to kill her. Here's your payment for Solitude. Prepare yourself and meet me at the ruins as soon as you can. We can't let her slip through our fingers.”

She pocketed the purse and headed into the Flagon. She sold the map to Delvin and showed Vex the back entrance. Delvin waved her over as she was heading back out. 

“Wait just a tick, yeah? I’ve gotten a couple jobs that seem to be right up your alley. A silversmith in Markarth and a farmer in Windhelm both contacted the Guild askin’ for some help.”

She glanced at the door to the Cistern and back at Delvin. “Dar’adhavi is to accompany Mercer to deal with Karliah. Can it not wait?”

He snorted and tucked some papers into her pouch. “Take ‘em, do ‘em when you and Mercer finish up. They’re important enough Brynjolf wants you handlin’ ‘em personal, and they should strengthen the Guild’s standin’.”

She rolled her eyes, taking the papers out and folding them so they fit more comfortably, then nodded. “For the Guild, then. Tell them Khajiit will visit soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Anhok, hefhah! Avok het!” [“Hey, idiot! Over here!”]


	7. 6

She rode to Windhelm, mind racing. The only thing she could be sure of was that she didn’t have the full story. She stopped at Windhelm to speak to Torsten Cruel-Sea, to see what he had wanted of the Guild. She listened to his tale, of a daughter slaughtered by a rival Guild, and decided Mercer could wait a bit longer. She gave her sympathies, and a promise to return the stolen necklace, and went hunting.

She followed his only lead to an Altmer, Niranye, and started asking questions. The Altmer feigned sympathy, and Dar’adhavi bared her teeth in annoyance.

“Khajiit thinks you might be a decent thief, but you are a poor actor.”

She seemed surprised. “Now, just a moment. Let's think about this... you know, discuss it like two rational people.”

“Khajiit is listening.”

“Look,they were crazy, I could be killed!” she stopped at Dar’adhavi’s quiet growl. “It's a guild of Altmer thieves. They call themselves the Summerset Shadows. Their leader, Linwe, he's the worst of the lot, likes to take jewelry off the dead. He found the girl like that, I swear it!”

“And where can Khajiit find this Linwe?”

“He and his crew are holed up in Uttering Hills Cave, a few miles down the road.” Dar’adhavi turned to go, and Naranye asked, “Maybe you can speak to Mercer? I’d be happy to start fencing for the Guild again….”

Dar’adhavi ignored her and saddled Rogue, intending to deal with the rival Guild first. She saw Mercer walking up the road and she reined up next to him.

“Khajiit has heard of a group trying to set themselves up as a rival to the Guild. She will deal with them, then meet you.”

He nodded and she rode off, abandoning the road to climb up a hill overlooking the cave. She watched the two sentries while she tied Rogue to a tree, then carefully picked them off. She climbed down her hill and entered the cave proper. She took out some more sentries, careful to remain unseen. She found their main hall, dominated by a flag bearing what she guessed was their symbol. She glared at it, then grabbed one of the candles and lit it on fire.

As it burned, Linwe came out of his room off the main hall. She shoved the still-lit candle into his eye, then shoved his sword through his neck. She looted his quarters, finding the necklace Torsten described, and made her way back to Windhelm. She found Torsten on his way to his farm, and dismounted.

“Khajiit has your daughter’s locket.”

He took it, staring at it sadly. “I can’t thank you for this, but I’ll do what I can to support your guild here in Windhelm. I’ll send a message to Delvin.”

She nodded and left him with his grief.

She approached Snow Veil Sanctum, smelling blood. She drew her bow, wary, until she saw the slain horse. She rode on, dismounting and approaching the final yards on foot. She found Mercer waiting.

“Good, you're finally here. I've scouted the ruins and I'm certain Karliah is still inside.”

She wondered briefly why he didn’t ask about her other task, but shrugged. “You saw her?”

He sneered. “No, I saw her horse. Don't worry, I've taken care of it...she won't be using it to escape. Let's get moving, I want to catch her inside while she's distracted. Take the lead.”

She blinked in surprise. She didn’t particularly want him at her back, but she guessed he felt the same about her. She nodded. “Khajiit understands.”

She turned to the ruin, scaling the side and descending the stairs on the inside. She heard Mercer say behind her, “Just make certain you keep your eyes open. Karliah is as sharp as a blade. The last thing I need is you blundering into a trap and warning her that we're here.”

_If you don’t trust me to avoid the traps, why put me in the lead?_ She silenced the resentment, instead asking “How did Gallus die?”

He considered it, finally answering, “Twenty-five years ago, I was standing outside these very same ruins. Gallus told me to meet here but he wouldn't say why. When I arrived, Gallus stepped from the shadows. Before he uttered a sound, an arrow pierced his throat. Before I could even draw my blade, her second arrow found its mark in my chest.”

“So Karliah took on both of you alone?”

He sneered at the memory. “Karliah was a master marksman and her greatest weapon was the element of surprise. I was lucky, she missed my heart by mere inches. I staggered away from the ruins and my vision began to blur. It's then that I realized the bitch had poisoned her arrows.”

“And Gallus?” she asked, interested despite herself.

“The last thing I saw was Karliah dumping his body into an opening atop the ruins; an unceremonious end for a remarkable man. To this day, I've regretted letting her escape, even if it had meant I died trying. I owed Gallus that much.”

She considered his words. She couldn’t hear regret in his tone. “What happened after Gallus died?”

“The Guild was thrown into disarray. Several stepped up and tried to claim Gallus' former position as Guild Master. Sides quickly formed behind these men and the Ratway became a bloodbath.”

She hadn’t considered that. “And you were a part of this?”

He snorted. “I saw what they did to Gallus. I wanted to use the Guild's resources to hunt down Karliah. The others didn't even care he was gone. Fortunately, I persevered and the other groups were either killed or they left Skyrim.”

“And what of Karliah?” _And if what you say is true, why did Delvin not mention it?_

“The in-fighting had taken months to subside, which gave her time to go into hiding and carefully cover her tracks. I spent thousands of septims and used every contact at my disposal, but it was as if she had simply vanished...like I said before, she was the best.”

She digested his tale when she came to the door of the ruin. It was barred, and she couldn’t see how to open it. Mercer approached the door, seeming smug.

“They say that these ancient Nordic burial mounds are sometimes impenetrable. This one doesn't look too difficult. Quite simple, really. I don't know what all the fuss is about these locks. All it takes is a bit of know-how and a lot of skill. That should do it. After you.”

She led the way in, ears pinned back as she berated him internally. _You are supposed to lead, yes? Why not pass along that “know-how”? If I surpass you, all will know that it was only through your guidance._

Her ears pinned back further when she smelled draugr ahead. She prepared to sneak by, and froze, stunned, when Mercer shoved past her. He charged into the room, setting off a trap and waking the draugr. She picked off one that was sneaking behind him, mind racing. _What kind of thief charges blindly into a fight?_

The rest of the journey kept to the same pattern, and she did all she could to disable traps before Mercer got there. She did get lost once, but found a lovely golden ship model for Delvin. She was starting to question the long-dead Gallus’s reasons for elevating Mercer when they entered another Hall of Stories. Mercer walked ahead, and Dar’adhavi stayed out of his way.

“Ah, it's one of the infamous Nordic puzzle doors. How quaint. Without the matching claw, they're normally impossible to open. And since I'm sure Karliah already did away with it, we're on our own. Fortunately, these doors have a weakness if you know how to exploit it. Quite simple, really.”

The door slid down as Dar’adhavi silently fumed. She knew there was little point in asking for the weakness, as Mercer was certainly the kind to hoard knowledge, to be able to lord it over others later. At Mercer’s urging, she entered the room, eyes scanning for good perches.

There was a flare of pain in her shoulder, and suddenly she couldn’t move. She fell on her side, helpless. Mercer stepped over her, not pausing to check on her.

He called out, “Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?”

A Dunmer dropped in front of him, bow drawn. “Give me a reason to try.”

“You're a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired.”

The arrow didn’t waver. “‘To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies.’ It was the first lesson Gallus taught us.

“You always were a quick study.”

“Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive.” Dar’adhavi heard sorrow in Karliah’s tone.

“Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way.” Wait. Was Mercer jealous of Gallus?

“Did you forget the oath we took as Nightingales? Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?” So, he was paying attention.

Mercer raised his sword. “Enough of this mindless banter! Come, Karliah! It's time for you and Gallus to become reunited”

Dar’adhavi would have smirked when Karliah downed an invisibility potion.

“I'm no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing.”

Mercer approached her and gazed at her, face expressionless.

“How interesting. It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place. But do you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that this was all possible because of you. Farewell. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards.”

He raised his blade, and she gasped as it plunged into her chest. He walked away, and she panicked as the world grew dark around her.

She opened her eyes, blinking to bring the world into focus. She staggered to her feet, surprised to find herself outside Snow Veil Sanctum. She heard a voice behind her and she wheeled around, stumbled, and readied her claws. She was somewhat surprised to see Karliah.

“Easy, easy. Don't get up so quickly. How are you feeling?”

“Wait. You shot this one!”

Karliah smiled faintly. “No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Dar’adhavi studied her, tail twitching. Finally, she relaxed. “Why save this one, then?”

“My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split-second decision to get you out of the way and it prevented your death.”

They studied each other for a while longer.

“Then Khajiit is in your debt, but thinks you should have shot Mercer.”

Karliah laughed. “I promise you, the thought crossed my mind. The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect; I only had enough for a single shot. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive.”

“Why?”

“Mercer must be brought before the Guild to answer for what he's done. He needs to pay for Gallus' murder.”

Dar’adhavi nodded. “How will you prove it now? Khajiit will vouch for you, but she is new to the Guild.”

“My purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't simply for irony's sake. Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus' remains. I suspect the information we need is written inside.”

Dar’adhavi made a “hurry up” gesture. “Well, what's it say?”

Karliah sighed. “I wish I knew. The journal is written in some sort of language I've never seen before.”

Dar’adhavi considered for a while. “Languages can be translated though, yes?”

Karliah’s eyes widened in realization. “Enthir…” she breathed. “Gallus' friend at the College of Winterhold. Of course…. He’s the only outsider Gallus trusted with the knowledge of his Nightingale identity.”

Dar’adhavi’s ears pricked up. “That is the second time Khajiit has heard you say ‘Nightingale’.”

Karliah began pacing. “There were three of us: Myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it later. Right now, you need to head for Winterhold with the journal and get the translation.”

“You will not travel with Khajiit to Winterhold?”

Karliah shook her head, looking back at Snow Veil Sanctum. “I'm afraid not. There are preparations to make and Gallus' remains to lay to rest. I promise to join you there as soon as I can.”

“Khajiit is curious about Gallus. Can you speak of him?”

“He was a scholar, a master thief and a natural leader. Everyone respected him and followed him without question. It was Gallus who inducted me into the Nightingales and honed my skills to a razor-sharp point. I owe everything to him. We were…very close.”

“You were lovers.”

Karliah smiled fondly, eyes unfocused. “Gallus once said he felt comfortable around me; able to let his guard down. I can't help but think that I'm responsible for what happened to him.”

Dar’adhavi nodded. “Why not kill Mercer?”

“Mercer lied to the Guild, branded me a murderer and slandered my name across his network of contacts. For twenty-five years I ran, never sleeping in the same place twice and carefully covering my tracks. Mercer doesn't need to die...he needs to feel the cold sting of fate as his life crumbles in front of him and he's hunted by the Guild.”

Dar’adhavi could respect that. “You might not get to choose, when next you see him.”

“I can promise you if it comes to that, and my back's to the wall, I won't hesitate.” Dar’adhavi set off to find Rogue, and Karliah called, “Remember, speak only to Enthir. Trust no one else.”

Dar’adhavi started to get a sinking feeling. She cast around where she had left Rogue, but couldn’t find her. She came across some tracks, and cursed Mercer. Fetcher had stolen her horse. She started muttering vitriol at him as she hiked through the _cold, wet, endless_ snow toward Winterhold. She couldn’t feel her toes by the time she made it to the small town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple more chapters of Guild stuff, then on to the main event!


	8. 7

She let the door bang closed behind her as she entered the tavern. She dragged a chair as close to the fire-pit as she could, crouching over the flames and trying to thaw. The innkeeper sighed and ladled out a bowl of soup, and she took it gratefully, paying him double as she dug in. She couldn’t have said what she was eating, just that it was the best food she had ever had. She thought that she would remember this soup for the rest of her life. 

Once she no longer felt like an icicle, she thanked the innkeeper and returned the chair to the table she had stolen it from. She asked around, and learned that Einthir normally took his evening meal there, and should be arriving shortly. She nodded and bought a drink, waiting by the fire. She was going to kill Mercer, to Oblivion with what the Guild wanted. He stabbed her, stole her horse, and made her travel for miles in the snow. She would gut him for that. 

She waited until the Bosmer had settled in with his meal and sat next to him.

“Yes, yes, what is it?”

“Khajiit was sent by Karliah.”

He looked over at her, surprised. “Karliah? Then she's finally found it. Do you have Gallus' journal?”

She drew out the journal. “Yes, but there's a problem.”

“A problem? Let me see it.” She handed over the journal and waited while he flipped through it. “This is just like Gallus. A dear friend, but always too clever for his own good. He's written all of the text in the Falmer language.”

Dar’adhavi twitched her tail. “Can you translate it?”

Enthir shook his head. “No. However, I know someone who might. The court wizard of Markarth, Calcelmo, may have the materials you need to get this journal translated. A word of warning: Calcelmo is a fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information won't be easy.”

Dar’adhavi considered this. She didn’t want to leave the warmth of the tavern just yet. “What can you tell me about Gallus?”

“He was a dear friend of mine and a surprisingly astute pupil of academia… I was devastated when he was killed. I suppose that risk always coexisted with his line of work; I just never thought his luck would run out.”

She was surprised. “He was an academic yet he chose a different path. Why?”

Enthir chuckled a bit at that. “Well, for the thrill, of course. He was quite clear that he felt more in his element climbing through a window than hunched over a dusty tome.”

“How did you meet him?”

Enthir’s eyes were distant. “Ah, yes, quite an amusing anecdote actually. I caught him trying to break into my laboratory. I was about to show him the error of his ways when he made a curiously astute comment about my research notes. I was astounded and it in turn lead to a conversation. Who'd have imagined it would lead to such a strong friendship?”

Dar’adhavi thanked him for his time and information, and went to rent a room. She was a bit annoyed to find that there was no stable or carriage for let in the hold, and she wanted to stew about Mercer in the warmth, first. She burrowed under all the blankets she could get, muttering invective against the cold, Mercer, the snow, Mercer, the Divines for making such an inhospitable land, Mercer, and the innkeeper for only letting her have four blankets.

When she arrived in the courtyard, her ears pinned back even further. It was pouring down rain, and she felt more than heard the roll of the thunder. The only charitable thought she could muster was a brief thanks that she was under a roof. She walked up and down the covered walkway, unable to find a way into the palace without stepping into the rain. She stopped when one of the black-clad guards approached her. 

“Your presence is demanded in the Palace.”

Dar’adhavi sighed, mournful, as the guard walked away. She looked around, but the fastest way to the palace was also the longest. She groaned in frustration and annoyance, then took a deep breath and bolted across the courtyard, up the stairs, and under the closest overhang. She ignored the offended look the Auriel gave her and opened the door, slipping into the throne room.

She stopped by the brazier closest to the throne she glared daggers at Sheogorath. The Daedric Prince simply laughed at her. He abruptly sobered, and she felt her hackles raise in fear as he glared at her.

“You’re avoiding what I need you to be doing. You’re supposed to be dealing with the dragons, not backstabbing thieves.”

She knelt before the throne. “Khajiit knows this. Khajiit will turn her focus upon the dragons.” She looked up, then, and he raised an eyebrow at the fire in her eyes. “But first, Khajiit has a reckoning to collect.”

He snorted. “Why, because he stabbed you? I’ll do much worse to you, if you don’t get moving.”

“No. Khajiit could overlook the stabbing, for she survived. Khajiit could overlook the murder of the previous Guildmaster, for she did not know him. Khajiit could forgive the framing of the Dunmer. Khajiit could even overlook being forced to walk through miles of snow. Khajiit will not forgive him stealing her horse!”

There was a pregnant silence, and Dar’adhavi began to fear that she had overstepped. Suddenly, Sheogorath began to laugh. She heard a faint sigh of annoyance from Haskill, and she cautiously rose.

“Ha! I knew I liked you. Alright, let’s make a deal. You get revenge on behalf of your horse, then you go right up to see the Greybeards. No side trips, no distractions. Murder, then work.”

She nodded. “Khajiit would finish much sooner if she could have assistance translating the Falmer tongue….”

He leaned forward, topaz eyes narrowed. “You’re already at the limits of my patience, kitten. Pushing would go much worse for you.” He straightened up. “Now, off you go.”

She felt herself waking up, mildly surprised to find herself warm. She opened her eyes, and found herself staring at the canvas of a tent. She rose, pleased to see her belongings had been moved with her, and exited the tent. She found herself in a camp of Khajiit, and she nodded respectfully to the elder of the group. She remembered seeing him outside Whiterun.

“So, kitten. Whose tail have you tweaked?” he asked as she approached.

“You will not like to hear,” she replied, settling next to him by the fire. “Dar’adhavi has been chosen by the Skooma Cat for an errand.”

The gathered Khajiit murmured their condolences, and she nodded in acceptance. The elder studied her, then gestured to the road. “If it will speed you upon your errand, then, this is the road to Markarth. If you travel well, you should make it before the moons rise.”

She rose and bowed. “Dar’adhavi thanks you well. For this, and for the advice.”

He smiled slowly. “Ri’saad is pleased when kittens learn quickly.”

She grinned and headed out. She had gone a few miles before she began cursing Mercer again. She made her way to Markarth, wasting a bit of time arguing with the guards before they would let her in, and made her way toward the palace and Calcelmo. 

She found the wizard off the main hall, in a very impressive ruin. She approached him, remembering that he was supposed to be stubborn and wondering if she was wasting her time.

He looked up at her approach. “Look, I'm very busy, so this better be important. What are you doing here? The excavation site is closed. I don't need any more workers or guards.”

She gave a winning smile. “Khajiit was looking for you, actually.”

Calcelmo turned back to his work, dismissing her. “I told you I'm not hiring any more guards. Why do you people always bother me when I'm trying to finish my research? You idiot. Do you even know who I am? The most recognized scholar on the Dwemer in all of Tamriel, and you people keep bothering me!” He took a breath, steadying himself. “I… I'm sorry, I… I got too excited. I'm in the middle of some very… stressful work, and I shouldn't have yelled. How can I help you?”

“Khajiit hears you're the authority on ancient Falmer.”

He preened. “Then you were well informed. I am at this very moment on the cusp of completing my magnum opus on the subject. I'm calling it ‘Calcelmo's Guide to the Falmer Tongue’. It will revolutionize the way we understand those ancient beings.”

She purred, “Perhaps Khajiit could view your work?”

He sputtered, offended. “Preposterous! That research represents years of personal toil in some of the most dangerous Dwemer ruins in Skyrim! You must be mad to think I'd allow anyone to see it before it's completed.”

She studied his back and sighed. “Khajiit had hoped. Ah, well. She wishes you well with your research.”

He didn’t seem to hear, so she snagged a key and and some scraps of Dwemer material and headed out. She followed the trace of his scent to what must be the museum, showing the gear to the guard on the door.

“Khajiit was told to bring this to Calcelmo’s museum.”

The guard rolled his eyes. “Can’t imagine why, he practically has a room full of those things,” he muttered as she passed, unlocking the door and walking in. She walked around the room, nodding to the guards as she placed the stolen bits and bobs around the room. Once she was sure they were ignoring her, she grabbed a book and walked through the door at the back. One of the guards saw her, and she waved the book at him. He waved her on, and she dropped the book once the door was closed. She slunk through the ruins, avoiding the bulk of the guards, and made her way to Calcelmo’s laboratory. She studied the massive stone block covered in the Falmer writing and chewed on a claw, thinking. She wandered around, finally deciding to take a rubbing of each side.

As she was finishing the rubbing on the second side, she heard the door open. She gave silent thanks to whomever was responsible for her good fortune that the stone was between her and the door and tucked the rubbings into her pack. She strained to hear who was coming. It sounded like three, maybe four people. She looked around the stone cautiously as someone began to speak.

“Yes, I'm positive I heard something!”

“I… oh, alright. If there is a thief, he won't leave this tower alive. But shouldn't we inform Master Calcelmo?”

“I'll deal with my uncle. Just… go! Scour this place from top to bottom!”

She saw a man in wizard’s robes and three guards. She jumped over to a walkway and waited while the guards moved out of view. She threw her piece of charcoal and watched while the wizard moved around to investigate. Once he was out of her way, she dropped down to the entryway and slipped out the door. She crept through the rooms, picking up a puzzle cube and avoiding the guards, and slunk out of the museum. She avoided the door guard and made her way out of the palace.

She remembered that she was to meet with a silversmith, too, and found him dining in the inn near the gates. She heard his tale, of a special mold stolen from a caravan and unhelpful guards, and agreed to go fetch it. She hired a cart to Falkreath and hiked out to the bandit’s lair. She was surprised at how easy it was for her to handle them and find the treasure room. She snorted when she first saw it. It was absolutely tacky, with coin and jewels strewn about, and the mold just sitting there. She shoved everything into her pack and hiked back to Markarth.

The smith was thrilled at her success, and vowed to do all he could to strengthen the Guild’s hold in Markarth. She smiled at the thought and left the city behind. She hiked over to the stables and hired the carriage to Winterhold and sighed. She let herself drift, amused to see herself in the courtyard. She bounced up the stairs and into the throne room. She paused when one of the Mazken grabbed her arm, and she studied the room. Belatedly, she realized Sheogorath wasn’t there, nor was Haskill. She looked up at the Mazken, who held a finger to her lips. Dar’adhavi nodded and waited. 

There was a bump in the road, and she woke, disoriented. They were approaching Winterhold, and she furrowed her brow. She wondered what had been going on with the palace, but decided to wait for now. Sheogorath would tell her or not as he would.

She entered the inn and headed downstairs. She was slightly confused as to why Enthir and Karliah were down there, but the innkeeper didn’t stop her. Enthir looked over as the door opened.

“Back, eh? And how was our friend Calcelmo?”

Dar’adhavi pulled the rubbings out of her pouch. “This should help translate Gallus' journal.”

He took them with a small smile. “I suppose it would be inappropriate of me to ask how you obtained this, so I simply won't. A rubbing, eh? Odd. I expected notes.”

“It is quite the tale. Khajiit might tell you sometime.”

“I understand. Now, let me take a good look at this. Over here, please.” He ushered both women to a table and began flipping through the journal. “Hmm… This is intriguing, but highly disturbing. It appears Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for months. Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls an ‘…unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.’”

Karliah stiffened. “Does the journal say where this wealth came from?”

Enthir consulted the rubbing. “Yes. Gallus seems certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone's knowledge.”

Karliah shot a quick glance at Dar’adhavi, then back to Enthir. “Anything else, Enthir? Anything about… the Nightingales?”

“Hmm. Yes, here it is. The last few pages seem to describe ‘the failure of the Nightingales,’ although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher.”

Karliah closed her eyes, pained, and whispered, “Shadows preserve us. So it's true….”

Enthir studied her face, obviously confused. “I'm not familiar with the Twilight Sepulcher. What is it? What's Mercer Frey done?” he demanded.

Karliah shook her head sadly. “I'm sorry, Enthir. I can't say. All that matters is we deliver your translation to the Guild immediately. Farewell, Enthir… words can't express….”

He sighed and nodded. “It's alright, Karliah. You don't have to say a word.” He turned to Dar’adhavi when Karliah stepped away. “Listen, all I want is the truth to be revealed to the Guild. They respected Karliah, and she deserves better. Do whatever you can and I'll consider it a personal favor.”

“Khajiit thanks you, Enthir.”

He waved that away. “If you ever manage to gain entry to the College, and you find trying to rid yourself of stolen goods becoming a burden, come visit me. I've been known to handle items of questionable interest from time to time and I'll see what I can do.” He packed up his books and left the basement.

Karliah returned to the table and addressed Dar’adhavi. “You must hasten to Riften before Mercer can do any more damage to the Guild.”

Dar’adhavi studied Karliah. “Gallus' journal mentioned the ‘Twilight Sepulcher’….”

Karliah sighed. “You've come this far, so I see no harm in concealing it any longer. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple to Nocturnal. It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect at all costs.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why does it require that type of protection, Khajiit wonders?”

“Everything that represents Nocturnal's influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher. Now it seems Mercer's broken his oath with Nocturnal and defiled the very thing he swore to protect.”

The Khajiit shook her head. “Thieves and temples. It makes no sense.”

She chuckled. “I felt the same way when Gallus first revealed these things to me. I think given time, you'll understand what I mean.”

Dar’adhavi rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Khajiit would understand better if less mystery was involved.”

“As a Nightingale, I've been sworn to secrecy regarding the Sepulcher. I know the Guild doesn't do much to foster faith, but I'm going to have to ask that you continue to trust me,” Karliah replied.

“Very well, we will do this your way for now.”

“I'll make for Riften and scout the situation; see if I can discover what Mercer's up to. When you're ready, meet me at the Ragged Flagon.” She drew a sheathed sword from her gear and handed it to Dar’adhavi. “In the meantime, I wanted you to have this. It belonged to Gallus, but given the circumstances I think he'd approve.”

“Khajiit will put it to good use.”

“If the Guild isn't willing to listen to reason, you might have to.”

Dar’adhavi stepped out of the inn and swore to herself. She would have to walk. Again. She stepped out onto the road, grumbling, and headed south.

Her trip to Riften was fairly uneventful, for the wilds of Skyrim. She was singled out by two dragons and a pack of wolves and had made herself well acquainted with Gallus’ sword by the time she entered Riften. She made her way to the smith first, and bought every arrow she could. She also surprised him by commissioning a certain piece, but he assured her it wouldn’t take too long to make. Then she made her way down to the Ratway, hissing fury at Mercer, again, for stealing her horse.

She entered the Flagon and nodded at the merchants that had set up in the alcoves, spotting Karliah lurking in the shadows.

The Dunmer seemed a bit nervous as she approached. “I'm glad you're here. I think some of these people are beginning to suspect who I am. Are you ready to face the Guild?”

She nodded. “Khajiit is ready. Let us go.”

“Keep your eyes open. I'm not sure what to expect when we enter the cistern.”


	9. 8

One of the new recruits was waiting behind the false cabinet. Dar’adhavi recognized him, Garthar, and glared him down.

He stepped aside. “They're waiting for you in the cistern. No tricks.”

Dar’adhavi led the way into the cistern, eyes level as she stared down Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin. She heard Karliah close the door behind them, but didn’t move. Brynjolf studied them, not lowering his sword.

“You better have a damn good reason to be here with that murderer.”

Before Dar’adhavi could reply, Karliah stepped forward. “Please, lower your weapons so we can speak. I have proof that you've all been misled!”

Brynjolf glared at her. “No tricks, Karliah, or I'll cut you down where you stand. Now what's this so-called proof you speak of?”

She drew the journal out of her pack and handed it to Brynjolf. “I have Gallus' journal. I think you'll find its contents disturbing.”

“Let me see.” He grabbed it and started flipping through the pages. His brows lowered, then rose in shock. “No, it… it can't be.” He flipped through a few more pages. “This can't be true. I've known Mercer too long…” He looked lost.

It's true, Brynjolf. Every word. Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years, right under your noses.”

Brynjolf squared his shoulders. Turning to th thieves behind him, he said, “There's only one way to find out if what the lass says is true. Delvin, I'll need you to open the Vault.”

He started walking, leaving Delvin and Vex to scramble after him. “Wait just a blessed moment, Bryn. What's in that book? What did it say?” Delvin demanded as he trotted to catch up.

“It says Mercer's been stealing from our vault for years. Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered.”

Delvin scoffed. “How could Mercer open up a vault that needs two keys? It's impossible.” He seemed to consider what he said. “Could he pick his way in?”

Vex shook her head. “That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy. There's no way it can be picked open.”

Karliah followed behind them, and said faintly, “He didn't need to pick the lock.”

Delvin jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “What's she on about?”

Dar’adhavi shrugged. “Khajiit did see him open a Nordic puzzle door with no claw. Mercer said they had a weakness, if one knew how to exploit it. Perhaps Mercer exploited the same ‘weakness’ here?”

“Use your key on the vault, Delvin. We'll open it up and find out the truth,” Brynjolf said once they were all gathered around.

Delvin shook his head, but he unlocked one of the locks. Turning back to the group, he said, “I've used my key, but the vault's still locked up tighter than a drum. Now use yours.”

Brynjolf stepped up to the doors and unlocked the second lock. He opened the doors and the key clattered to the floor.

“By the Eight! It's gone, everything's gone! Get in here, all of you!”

They crowded in, and Dar’adhavi took in the bare chests and empty baskets.

“The gold, the jewels… it's all gone,” Delvin muttered, stunned.

“That son of a bitch! I'll kill him!” Vex had drawn her sword again, glaring around as if Mercer was hiding behind one of them.

“Vex! Put it away, right now. We can't afford to lose our heads. We need to calm down and focus,” Brynjolf barked.

“Do what he says, Vex. This ain't helpin' right now,” Delvin added, soothing.

Vex sheathed her sword with more force than the act required. “Fine. We do it your way. For now.”

“Delvin, Vex, watch the Flagon. If you see Mercer, come tell me right away.” The two nodded and headed to the tavern, and Brynjolf sighed and turned to Dar’adhavi. “Look, before I help you track Mercer down, I need to know what you learned from Karliah. I mean everything.”

Dar’adhavi began listing them off on her claws. “Mercer killed Gallus, not Karliah.”

Brynjolf nodded. “Aye, I feared that was the case. From that last entry in Gallus's diary, it looks like he was getting close to exposing Mercer to the Guild.”  
“Karliah was behind Goldenglow and Honningbrew.”

Brynjolf snorted. “Trying to make Mercer look bad in front of Maven, eh? Clever lass.”

“And Gallus, Karliah and Mercer were Nightingales.”

That got his attention. “What? Nightingales? But, I always just assumed they were a tale, a way to keep the young footpads in line. Was there anything else she told you?”

She thought about it. “No. Khajiit has recounted everything.”

Brynjolf nodded. “Then, I have an important task for you. I need you to break into Mercer's home and search for anything that tells us where he could have gone.”

Now it was her turn to be surprised. “He has a house in Riften?”

“Aye, a gift from the Black-Briars when they kicked the previous family out, place called Riftweald Manor. He never stays there, just pays for the upkeep on it. Hired some lout by the name of Vald to guard the place.”

“Khajiit will handle it.”

He grabbed her arm as she turned to go, and she felt herself warming at the intensity of his gaze. “Be careful, lass. This is the last place in Skyrim I'd ever want to send you. Just find a way in, get the information and leave. And you have permission to kill anyone who stands in your way.”

She considered this as he let her go. “What's the best way to get into Riftweald Manor?”

“Good question. I've only set foot inside a few times myself and that was in Mercer's company. If you can get past his trained watchdog, I think your best bet might be the ramp to the second floor balcony in his backyard.”

She quirked her lips in annoyance. “Khajiit assumes that it will not be easy to access?”

He shook his head. “No. It's some sort of crazy contraption commissioned for quick escapes. I'd wager a well-placed shot at the ramp's mechanism would lower it in a hurry.” 

She shook her head and added more reasons she wanted Mercer dead. She looked over at the Vault as she planned. “What's missing from the vault?”

He growled, and she felt a shiver. “Better question would be ‘what did he leave.’ Mercer took everything. Even all of our plans are gone.”

“Plans?”

“Before Mercer took over, Gallus started collecting every bit of material on locations the Guild could heist. Museums, keeps, estates, you name it. By the time Mercer took over the Guild we must have had a few dozen.” He sounded proud of this, and she secretly agreed. Plans like that could really help the guild’s standing.

She forced her attention back on the mission at hand. “You mentioned a watchdog?”

“That'd be Vald.” He crossed his arms. “A real piece of work, that one. Mercer's holding something over his head, keeping him loyal. Talk to Vex. She used to know him very well, if you catch my meaning.”

She nodded and headed off. Brynjolf called after her, “Careful at Mercer's place, I don't want to lose anyone else to that madman.”

She poked her head into the Flagon. “Vex! What would be the easiest way for Khajiit to deal with Vald?”

Vex snorted and called back, “Kill him and take what you need off his corpse. It wouldn’t be a loss.”

She waved and headed out, stopping at the blacksmith’s to pick up her commission, pleased with how it felt in her hand. She walked toward the North Gate and slipped through the side gate to the alley that ran behind the houses. She located Riftweald manor and spent some time watching Vald as he patrolled the yard. Once he was close enough to the gate, she rose and slit his throat. She grabbed the key as she let him fall, letting herself into the yard.

She dragged his corpse to a small cluster of trees and tucked it under a bush, kicking the gate closed behind her. She studied the mechanism on the ramp, and decided to test her new purchases. She drew the claw out of her pack and dug a bit for the spidersilk rope she had bought, tying the rope securely to the claw. Once she was sure of her knot, she threw the claw over the railing. It caught, and she yanked on the rope a few times to secure it.

Cautiously, she shimmied up the rope. It had a bit of give when she put her weight on it, but she could see that was simply the weaving pulling tighter. Once on the small porch, she pulled up the rest of the rope and secured it and the claw in her pack. She’d tell the rest of the Guild and the caravans about the crazy spider hunters later, but she was slightly impressed already.

She unlocked the door and moved slowly into a storeroom. She could smell an Orc and a human in the house, and the human wasn’t Mercer. So, more hired thugs. She listened, hearing heavier movement downstairs. So. The human guarded upstairs, and the Orc guarded the front door. She dug around the storeroom, but couldn’t find anything useful. Shrugging, she slowly opened the door into the main house. She shot the woman, a Redguard, through the eye as she turned, and Dar’adhavi froze, waiting to see if the Orc heard. She heard him muttering to himself, and she relaxed slightly.

She spent some time lifting everything she could find that was worth the weight of carrying it and slipped down the stairs. She waited until the Orc was distracted and slid behind him, slitting his throat. She checked the basement, but it was just a small kitchen. Back on the main floor, she searched through the dining room and, finding nothing, moved on into the office. She read his correspondence, wondering why he wanted a cauterizing agent, and rifled through the wardrobes. The first held only clothes, but the second had a false back. She popped it open and found herself in a small hall. She followed it, cautious of the traps one of the letters mentioned. She could smell Mercer all over, but she could tell that it had been a few days since he had been inside. Probably not since Snow Veil Sanctum, she thought as she dodged some swinging axes and a battering ram. 

She finally found his real office and helped herself to everything inside, including a magicked sword in a display case and a bust of the Grey Fox. She read through his plans and grabbed them, too, before following the lingering scent out into the catacombs. She snorted when she saw that he had marked the entryway to his house as “danger”, then made her way to the cistern. She found Brynjolf waiting for her.

“I've scoured the town and I've spoken to every contact we have left. No sign of Mercer. Any luck on your end?”

She nodded, handing over the plans. “He was long gone, but Dar’adhavi found these.”

Brynjolf scanned the plans, then exclaimed, “Shor's beard! He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer? That was Gallus's pet project. If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good and set up for life.”

She considered this, tail twitching at the prospect of a hunt. “Then we must stop him, yes?”

Brynjolf matched her grin. “Agreed. He's taken everything the Guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult. I've spoken to Karliah, and made amends for how the Guild's treated her. Now she wishes to speak with both of us. Quickly, we have no time to lose.”

Dar’adhavi nodded and let the way to the middle of the cistern where Karliah waited.

“Brynjolf, the time has come to decide Mercer's fate. Until a new Guild Master is chosen, the decision falls to you.”

“Aye, lass, and I've come to a decision. Mercer Frey tried to kill both of you, he betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus and made us question our future. He needs to die,” he replied with finality.

“We have to be very careful, Brynjolf. Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal.”

“Then it's all true, everything I heard in the stories. The Nightingales, their allegiance to Nocturnal and the Twilight Sepulcher,” he couldn’t hide the wonder in his tone.

“Yes. That is why we need to prepare ourselves and meet Mercer on equal footing.”Dar’adhavi felt a twinge of uncertainty at that. “Just outside of Riften, beyond the Southeast Gate, is a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of that path is a clearing and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both to meet me there.”

Dar’adhavi returned to the Flagon while Karliah and Brynjolf left. She sold her loot from Pinewatch and Riftweald, and plopped the bust in front of Delvin. He chuckled when he saw it.

“Well now, I’ll bet you stole that from Mercer. He always was fascinated by the Fox. Here.” He handed her a larger purse than usual, and she grinned. He studied her face for a bit, then nodded. “You go take care of that bastard, you hear me? You’re better ‘en him, and I’ll be pissed if he gets the drop on you.”

“Khajiit will endeavor to not lose her standing in your eyes.”

“You’d better,” he muttered as she left the Flagon.

She made her way outside of the city and followed the path as directed. She saw a massive standing stone, etched with Nocturnal’s symbol. She gazed at it warily as she approached, then nodded a greeting to Brynjolf and Karliah.

“Why meet here, and not do what needs be done in the cistern?” she asked as she approached.

“This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey,” Karliah informed them.

Dar’adhavi narrowed her eyes, uncertainty rising. “What kind of an edge?”

“If you'll follow me, I'll try to explain on the way.” She led the way to the cliff face, and revealed a hidden door.

Brynjolf gave a low whistle as they entered. “So, this is Nightingale Hall. I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed.”

“The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature.” Karliah replied as she led the way deeper into the cavern. “What's wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing.”

“I'm trying to understand why I'm here, lass. I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?”

“This isn't about religion, Brynjolf, it's business.” The cavern opened to a huge hall. Karliah gestured, “This is Nightingale Hall. You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century. Now, if you'll both proceed to the armory to don your Nightingale Armor, we can begin the Oath.”

Dar’adhavi and Brynjolf approached the stones Karliah directed them to, and traded out their armor for the new sets. Dar’adhavi spent a bit of time admiring how the inky black armor blended with her fur, and reveling in the lightness and fluidity it held. She would get a lot of use out of armor like this.

Karliah had donned her own armor while they were distracted. “You appear ready for the Oath.”

Brynjolf shrugged, the armor almost rippling with the movement. “Okay, lass. We've got these getups on, now what?”

She pointed further down the hall. “Beyond this gate is the first step to becoming a Nightingale.”

Brynjolf and Dar’adhavi froze at that. “Whoa there, lass. I appreciate the armor, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed.”

“To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs. If she is to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck,” Karliah replied, sounding annoyed.

“What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms.”

“The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher.”

“Aye, there's always a catch. But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in.”

Karliah turned to Dar’adhavi. “What about you? Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?”

She looked between Brynjolf and Karliah and sighed. “Khajiit will do as you direct, but she does not think Nocturnal will accept her. Dar’adhavi champions another Daedric Prince, and neither her Prince nor Nocturnal seem inclined to share.”

Karliah considered this while Brynjolf stared at her. “At least tell me it isn’t one of the ones that demand blood, lass.”

Dar’adhavi shook her head, then remembered what Sheogorath had said when she joined the Guild.

“Dar’adhavi thinks her Lord will allow her temporary service to another, provided she can find a replacement Nocturnal deems suitable. He said Khajiit was doing a favor for a friend when she joined the Guild, after all.”

Karliah seemed to accept that, and ushered them into the chamber. Dar’adhavi stood on her glyph and waited while Karliah began the ceremony.

“I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow. Hear my voice!”

There was an orb of energy, and Dar’adhavi briefly wondered if this is what others saw as she moved between the Isles and Nirn. She shoved the speculation away as a woman’s voice filled the chamber.

“Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?”

Karliah knelt, arms raised in supplication. “My lady, I come before you to throw myself at your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure.”

Nocturnal’s voice dripped amusement. “You're already Mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer Me now?”

“I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death.”

“You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in My favor.”

“My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace.”

“Revenge? How interesting….” Dar’adhavi felt the weight of Nocturnal’s regard, and she knelt. “I know you. The Madgod’s new toy. You know where your service lies.”

“Dar’adhavi knows this well, Your Grace. She wishes to seek her own revenge against Mercer. She does not seek Your boon, merely Your blessing to kill one of Your chosen. She will not seek the title of Nightingale, and will strive to find one more suitable for the role.”

Nocturnal seemed to consider this. “Very well, your conditions are acceptable. You may proceed.”

“Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and in the next until your conditions have been met.”

“Very well. I name your initiates Nightingale and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing Me again.”

Dar’adhavi watched as Brynjolf and Karliah glowed faintly as Nocturnal left. She made her way to the center of the chamber, and turned to Karliah.

“Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime.”

Her eyebrows rose. “He's done more?”

“Mercer was able to unlock the Guild's vault without two keys because of what he stole from the Twilight Sepulcher, the Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our ties to Nocturnal, and in essence, caused our luck to run dry.”

Brynjolf seemed interested. “So this key unlocks any door?”

“Well, yes,” Karliah admitted. “But the key isn't only restricted to physical barriers. All of us possess untapped abilities; the potential to wield greater power, securely sealed within our minds. Once you realize the key can access these traits, the potential becomes limitless.” Dar’adhavi nodded. Daedric artifacts were tricky, she knew. “If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed on, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade.”

She snorted. “First time Khajiit ever tried to unsteal a thing.”

“Very true. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner.”

Brynjolf bumped her shoulder as she turned to go. “Listen, lass. There's one last piece of business we need to settle before we go after Mercer. The leadership of the Guild.”

“Why speak to Dar’adhavi?”

“Karliah and I had a long discussion before you arrived here. Thanks to your efforts, Mercer's treachery has been exposed. After we deal with him, all that remains is restoring the Guild to its full strength. As a result, we both feel that you have the potential of replacing Mercer as leader of the Thieves Guild.”

Dar’adhavi studied him. “And what about you?”

“I've been at this game a long time, my friend. A long time. I've stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I'm good at what I do, maybe even one of the best. But it's all I know. I've never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. Don't want it.”

“It's about time you asked. Khajiit was getting impatient.”

“Ha! Spoken like the leader of the Thieves Guild. Just don't lose yourself in the role. We have a bit of an errand to run before your coronation.”

She sobered. “Dar’adhavi accepts.”

“Then it's decided. When this is all over and Delvin's contacts assure me we've regained our footing in Skyrim, we'll handle the details. Until then, we have quite the task ahead.”

“Then let us begin.”

As they walked to the entrance, Brynjolf continued, “I've been pouring over the plans you brought us, and I'm convinced the Eyes of the Falmer are in the dwarven ruins at Irkngthand. Karliah and I will meet you there. Prepare yourself, lass. This will be a fight to remember!”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “So. You are a Nightingale now.”

“Aye, and some of what Karliah said is starting to make sense. Mercer may have damaged our reputation and raided our coffers, but this goes well beyond even his twisted form of larceny. Old Delvin kept calling it a curse and we all laughed at him. Looks like the joke's on us.” He sighed and watched her. “So. The Madgod?”

She grinned. “The Skooma Cat has been good to Dar’adhavi, so far. But she will have to return to her purpose after Mercer is dead. Khajiit promised. She will stop by as she can, though. And if she survives, she will return permanently.”

Brynjolf nodded, but still seemed confused. “Watch yourself out there, lass.”

She watched him go and headed out herself. She walked north, deciding to stop in Kynesgrove for the night. She trudged into the town as the sun was setting, unsurprised to see Brynjolf and Karliah in the inn. The three sat by the fire and ate, discussing plans for the morning, and sharing tips they had learned on how to deal with Dwarven ruins. Dar’adhavi listened intently to those. They separated for the night, and Dar’adhavi stayed up a bit later. She was nervous about facing Mercer, and about following the path of destiny. She sighed and went for a walk.

She followed a path into the mountains above the town and paused at the edge of a large clearing. There was a mound in the center, and she could feel the power that she recognized as dragon coming from it. She closed her eyes and focused, but she couldn’t feel anything else. She returned to the inn, hoping that Sheogorath would warn her if anything woke the dragon.

She settled into her room. The skies above the palace were vibrant with color, and she grinned. She settled down on the roof to watch the dance of galaxies, not surprised when she heard footsteps approaching.

“Khajiit will face Mercer tomorrow, then will return and face the Greybeards,” she said without looking around.

“Good. Just make sure you return Nocturnal’s trinket before you finish.”

She heard him settling down next to her and she sighed. They watched the sky in silence until she woke.


	10. 9

Dar’adhavi readied herself and left the inn. Karliah and Brynjolf had left earlier. She made her way to Irkngthand without incident. She studied the ruins from a distance and planned her way in. The disadvantage to black armor and black fur in a frozen wasteland, she was finding, was how much one stood out. She sighed and began her way to the entrance, slipping past the bandits camped outside.

She took a breath once inside the ruin, startled to smell blood. She cautiously approached a lowered area of the room and staggered back a few steps. There were more bandits, but they had been absolutely slaughtered. From where the bodies lay, they had been caught sleeping. She sent up a quick prayer, hoping that their souls would rest easy once she killed Mercer.

She slunk through the ruin, pausing on a ledge to watch an orb rolling around an empty room. Once she sensed its pattern, she dropped down and noiselessly moved past it into another room. Her ears flattened when the pillars around the room began spouting flames and spinning. What possible purpose does this serve? She moved with the pillars, making her way to an elevated gate. She jumped onto the scant bit of ledge available and picked the lock and moved deeper into the ruin.

She found Brynjolf and Karliah waiting by a great door.

“Mercer's been here. I hope we're not too late.”

Dar’adhavi gestured the way she came. “Those bandits back there. Your doing?”

Karliah shook her head, and Dar’adhavi saw an echo of her own horror in her eyes. “Brynjolf and I found them like that. Mercer's doing. We have to catch up to him before it's too late.”

Dar’adhavi nodded and moved to open the door. She was unsurprised when a spiked ball swung into the doorway. She rolled her eyes and moved on, scoffing when she saw a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve and some lockpicks set on a Guild Shadowmark.

“Dar’adhavi thinks Mercer is mocking us, yes?” she asked, pointing it out and pocketing the picks.

Brynjolf shook his head and they moved on. The corridor they followed opened onto a wide platform, bound on one side by a grate. Dar’adhavi took it in, and prepared to move on. She could climb it with help, but getting the other two over would take a bit of time they didn’t have. She stopped when she caught a flash of movement, and the three looked out over the cavern.

“It's Mercer! Look, down there!” 

Brynjolf looked around and growled. “Damn it! There's no way through.”

Dar’adhavi backed away, studying the barricade. “Bryn, turn to face this one and make a stirrup of your hands.”

He looked over at her, confused, but did as she said. She ran at him, stepping in his hands, then his shoulder, and clambered up the final section on the crossbars. Straddling the top of the barricade, she drew her bow, and fired. She heard Mercer swear as the door closed behind him. She narrowed her eyes at the small splash of blood she could see.

“Any luck, lass?”

She looked down at them and shook her head. “Khajiit only clipped him. But here,” she drew the spidersilk rope from her pack, “Khajiit can give us a short cut.”

She carefully tied a few loops in the rope and wrapped it around the top of the barricade. She dropped one end to Brynjolf and Karliah, letting the other end fall into the cavern. Brynjolf looked between her and the rope.

“I’m not sure about this, lass….”

She snorted. “Khajiit was assured that this rope could hold a mammoth. And humans do not lie as well as Khajiit.”

Karliah took the rope from Brynjolf and shimmied up, quickly moving to her descent. “Mercer is ahead. Let’s not waste time.”

Brynjolf sighed and followed, with much more hesitation. Dar’adhavi steadied him as he moved over the barricade and waited until he was back on the ground before freeing her rope and tucking it away again. She dropped off the wall, tucking her head and rolling with the landing. Straightening up, she found Karliah studying her.

“Where did you get that rope?” she asked as they moved toward the door Mercer took.

“Dar’adhavi found a group of hunters. They make it with the help of the frostbite spiders.”

Brynjolf sputtered. “You mean that’s spider webbing?”

She grinned over her shoulder at him. “Yes. It’s very light, and folds nicely. This one will be suggesting its use to many in our line of work.”

Brynjolf shook his head while Karliah looked considering. “I might take you up on that.”

They walked in silence as they approached the door. Dar’adhavi was surprised to see the splash of blood was larger than she thought. Might have done worse than clip him… They followed the blood through more of the ruins, sneaking past the Falmer camped there. They traveled mostly in silence, until they reached another giant door. Dar’adhavi held up a hand, ears straining.

“Mercer is ahead. This one thinks he is prying one of the eyes loose.”

She waited while the other two readied themselves.

“Then this is it. We do this for Gallus and for the Guild.” 

She opened the door and they slipped inside. Mercer had managed to pry one eye out of a massive statue and was working on the second.

Karliah took charge. “Brynjolf, watch the door.”

“Aye, lass. Nothing's getting by me.”

She turned to Dar’adhavi. “Climb down that ledge and see if you can—”

Mercer cut her off. “Karliah, when will you learn you can't get the drop on me?”

He made a gesture, and the ledge crumpled. Dar’adhavi fell to the floor of the chamber and looked up. Karliah and Brynjolf were still by the door. She hissed as water began cascading down from a broken pipe in the ceiling. Mercer turned his attention to her.

“When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. And at that moment, I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade,” he spat at her.

“Give Khajiit the Key.”

He sneered. “What's Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key or anything having to do with the Guild.”

“This has nothing to do with Nocturnal. You stole Khajiit’s horse,” she snarled.

She heard Brynjolf mutter, “Really, lass?” behind her.

“Revenge is it? Have you learned nothing from your time with us? When will you open your eyes and realize how little my actions differ from yours? Both of us life, cheat and steal to further our own end.”

“Khajiit is not a horse thief.”

“It's clear you'll never see the Skeleton Key as I do, as an instrument of limitless wealth. Instead you've chosen to fall over your own foolish code.”

“Khajiit will see you fall, first.”

“Then the die is cast, and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood! Karliah, I'll deal with you after I deal with your irksome companions. In the meantime, perhaps you and Brynjolf should get better acquainted.”

He gestured again, and she heard a fight break out behind her. She tuned them out, knowing Karliah could look after herself, and that the sooner Mercer was dead, the faster that fight would be finished. She rushed Mercer, swiping at him with her claws and her bow.

“You are wrong, Mercer,” she taunted as he faded from visibility and moved to give himself space. “This one is no Nightingale.”

She watched the faint blur of his form as he tried to sneak around behind her. She threw her bow at his feet and leapt on him when he tripped. She dug her claws into whatever skin was available as he tried to throw her loose. 

“Khajiit serves Sheggorath.” 

She buried her claws into his jugular and ripped his throat out. She watched, dispassionately, as his lips moved in his final words. She thought it was a plea to Nocturnal. She doubted the Daedric Princess would be forgiving. She shrugged and rifled through his gear. She slid the coin and both Eyes into her own pack and finally found the Key. She pocketed it, glancing over when Brynjolf informed her the door was blocked. She picked up her bow, quickly checking it over. She curled a lip when she saw how mangled it was, dropping it to the ground.

She looked up as another rumble shook the cavern and more pipes burst. Must be under a lake, she thought idly as she scanned for an exit. She wasn’t overly concerned by the rising waters. Nocturnal would provide luck, and Sheogorath needed her to survive this. She saw a likely looking spot and swam over, climbing the statue’s hair ornament. She dug a finger into the clay around some rocks, then nodded and dove for Mercer’s corpse again. She pulled out his belt knife and returned to the rocks, ignoring her companions for the time being. She dug with Mercer’s knife, ducking as another rumble knocked the stones loose.

She waited until the water was high enough to walk easily into the cavern beyond and followed Brynjolf out of the room. She dropped the knife and walked further into the cavern where Karliah and Brynjolf were catching their breath.

“I can't believe it's over. After twenty-five years in exile and just like that, it's done. All that remains is to ensure the safe return of the Skeleton Key.”

Dar’adhavi held it out to Karliah. “As Khajiit said, this one has other obligations to meet.”

Karliah gazed down at the Key, eyes unfocused. After a long while, she looked up. “I… I can’t. I can’t face Nocturnal after my failure to protect the Key. I'm afraid you'll have to face the end of your journey alone.”

Dar’adhavi glanced at Brynjolf. “And you must go and keep the Guild in line.” She sighed as he nodded and slipped the Key into her bag. “Then Khajiit will return it. Eventually. You know the place this one needs to go?”

Karliah nodded, and pointed it out on Dar’ahdavi’s map when she presented it. “When the Skeleton Key was stolen from the Twilight Sepulcher, our access to the inner sanctum was removed. The only way to bring it back will be through the Pilgrim's Path.”

Dar’adhavi headed toward the exit, and stopped when Karliah called her name. She turned to see Karliah holding out her bow.

“Take this with you. I'm not certain if it will help on your quests, but I certainly don't need it as much as you. I've had this bow almost my entire life, and it's never let me down. I hope it brings you the same luck.”

Dar’adhavi took it, feeling the unfamiliar tingle of magic under her fingers.

“Dar’adhavi will treasure it.”

She made her way out of the cave, glancing around when she heard a horse pawing the ground. Her face split in a grin when she recognized Rogue tied near the exit. She hurried over as Rogue nickered at her, running her hands over the horse’s neck and legs. She didn’t trust Mercer to treat her horse right, but she was gratified to see that Rogue was unharmed. She chuckled a bit as the mare nuzzled against her.

She checked over the tack and mounted, nodding to Brynjolf and Karliah as she rode off.

She traveled south, merrily updating Rogue on everything she’d missed. She wondered briefly if that meant she was mad, but shrugged it off. She was championing Sheogorath. A bit of madness was to be expected.

She rode into the town well after dark and quickly found a place for Rogue, untacking her and rubbing her down. She left the mare to graze and entered the inn. The innkeeper was surprised when she walked in, but greeted her warmly. She paid for a room, and for someone to keep an eye on Rogue, and crawled into her bed.

She looked around, but she was alone in the courtyard. She shrugged and lay in the grass, letting her mind wander. She twitched an ear when she heard someone approach. They stopped beside her, and she glanced over. 

“So. You’ve gotten your horse back, and you’re finally doing as you’ve been told. Good.”

“Khajiit apologizes for any inconvenience, my Lord,” she replied, voice dripping sarcasm.

Sheogorath snorted and dropped next to her. “Pert. I should punish you for it. Turn you into a pie. But I won’t.”

She grinned at the sky. “Because Khajiit fur gets everywhere?”

He huffed a laugh. “This is what I mean. You stopped being afraid of me.”

“Not true. Khajiit is terrified of You. But You need this one for now.”

“And that allows you to be pert?” he demanded.

“You love it,” she replied, feeling herself wake up. He’d probably be annoyed she got the last word, but she would deal with it later.

She walked up the road in town, heading toward the bridge to the 7,000 steps. She looked up the mountain and sighed.

She hiked her way up the mountain, swiftly dealing with the wildlife that attacked her. She paused for a moment at one of the shrines to take a brief break, then narrowed her eyes at the path ahead. She recognized that overhang. She was shown that overhang before. That’s where the troll and the Nord died. She climbed up the stairs, drawing her bow. She saw the troll, but it hadn’t seen her. Good.

She fired, and the troll roared and leapt off the ledge, blocking the trail. Shit. She sheathed her bow, running toward the troll. She leapt, bouncing off the cliff side, and ran down the rest of the trail. She slowed a bit when she saw the building ahead, but the sound of the troll behind her convinced her to keep running. She dashed up the steps, shoving the door open. She slipped on the stone floor as the troll swept a massive paw through the air where she had been. She scuttled back as four old men approached the troll.

The ground shook as the Greybeards began Shouting at the troll. She felt the tingle of power in their words, noting that it felt different from the dragons she had met. Once the troll was dead, one of the Greybeards turned to her as she rose.

“So, a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age.”

She nodded a shallow bow. “You say Khajiit is Dragonborn. What does this mean?”

“First, let us see if you truly are Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice.”

She glanced at the dead troll, then shrugged and shouted, “Fus!”

The man staggered back, then straightened. She could see the change in his face as he looked at her. It wasn’t quite fear, but it was close enough to make her a bit uncomfortable.

“Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?”

“Khajiit seeks to know what it means to be Dragonborn.”

He almost smiled at that. “We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you.”

“Khajiit answers your summons, Master.”

“We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny.”

She took a steadying breath. “What is the destiny Khajiit must follow?”

“That is for you to discover. We can show you the Way, but not your destination.”

She nodded. She wasn’t really expecting for it to be that cut-and-dried. “Khajiit is ready to learn.”

Master Arngeir led her to the center of the room, tone lecturing. “You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps toward projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you ‘Ro’, the second Word in Unrelenting Force. ‘Ro’ means ‘balance’ in the dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus -- ‘Force’ -- to focus your Thu'um more sharply.”

One of the men, she assumed Master Einarth, approached and whispered at the floor. “Ro….”

She studied it, and felt the same sense of knowing she felt at Bleak Falls Barrow. 

“You learn a new word like a master. You truly do have the gift. But learning a Word of Power is only the first step...you must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of ‘Ro’.”

She turned to Master Einarth and he bowed, light and knowledge flowing from him. She narrowed her eyes as she considered what was happening. She rolled her head on her neck as she turned back to Master Arngeir.

“Now let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um. Use your Unrelenting Force shout to strike the targets as they appear.”

One of the Greybeards approached her impromptu arena and Shouted “Flik Lo Sah!”

A spectral form of the man appeared in the middle of her “arena”. She Shouted “Fus Ro!” and it staggered back.

“Well done. Again.”

She rolled her eyes as Master Einarth approached and shouted. She shouted his specter down once it had formed.

“You learn quickly. Once more.”

The remaining Greybeard shouted up his specter, and she shouted it down almost before it finished forming. She turned back to Arngeir, ready to complain about his methods, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. Again, it wasn’t fear, but close enough that she could nudge it there easily.

His voice was calm, though, when he addressed her again. “Impressive. Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn. We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri.”

She followed the monks outside, tail twitching in annoyance at the snow.

“We will now see how you learn a completely new Shout. Master Borri will teach you ‘Wuld’, which means ‘Whirlwind’,” Master Arngeir informed her.

Borri approached and shouted his word, “Wuld”, and she studied it. She felt it burn itself into her mind, and she shook her head to clear it. She turned to Borri, and felt his knowledge flow over her.

Master Arngeir directed her attention to a large gate near the cliff. “Now we will see how quickly you can master a new Shout. Master Wulfgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be your turn. Master Borri.”

Borri, standing by the gate, Shouted “Bex”

The door flew open.

Wulfgar Shouted “Wuld Nah Kest!”

Almost faster than she could track, he dashed through the gate, which slammed closed almost immediately.

“Now it is your turn. Stand next to me. Master Borri will open the gate. Use your Whirlwind Sprint to pass through before it closes.”

Once the gate was open, she Shouted “Wuld” and dashed through, feeling the gate slam closed just past her tail. She glanced at Master Arngeir through the gate and made a decision.

She Shouted. “Bex! Wuld Nah Kest!”

The gate opened and she flew back toward her starting point. She laughed, exhilarated, as she overshot Master Arngeir, and she trotted back to the Greybeards.

“Khajiit is quick, yes? She has learned words by hearing the dragons she has fought.”

“Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is… astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself….”

She grinned, bouncing on her toes a bit. “Khajiit thanks you. What shall she do next?”

“You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return.”

She looked around at the monastery and the monks she had seen.

“There are only four of you?”

“Five.” Arngeir seemed to consider his words. “Our leader, Paarthurnax, lives alone on the peak of the Throat of the World. When your Voice can open the path, you will know you are ready to speak to him.”

She glanced up at the peak. “Khajiit would like to speak with this Paarthurnax.”

“As I said, you will know you are ready when your Voice can open the path to him.” He turned to go, and she spent a bit longer studying the peak.

She nodded at Borri as she passed and headed back down the mountain, planning the best way to get to Ustengrav. She retrieved her horse, pleased to see that Rogue had been well cared for, then rode west toward Morthal. She decided to stop at Whiterun for the night and consider her next moves. She was fairly sure that Arngeir wanted her elsewhere while he considered what to do with her. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have shown off, but she trusted the Greybeards. Yes, she was sure they were keeping something from her, but she felt they needed to know what she could really do.

She headed into the Bannered Mare and grabbed a seat by the fire. She grinned as Saadia brought her a drink before she could ask and settled back to enjoy the crowd. She met the gaze of a man in a black robe and ignored him as he started challenging any takers to a drinking contest. She thought he laughed when she looked away, but couldn’t be sure. She cocked her head when she heard an argument, turning to see the bard and one of the merchants from the square facing off. The merchant, Carlotta, that’s her name, was obviously trying to get the bard to leave her alone. Dar’adhavi considered the conflict, then rose and sauntered over.

“You know, Khajiit hears that the gods dislike those who push in where they are not wanted,” she began, but Mikael broke in.

“Then you should take your own advice, cat,” he snarled, before trying to throw his arm over Carlotta’s shoulder.

Dar’adhavi sighed and drained her ale. Then she backhanded the tankard across the bard’s face. The reaction was immediate, as everyone cried out and cleared space around her and Mikael. 

“Khajiit does not think the lady appreciates your advances. This one suggests you leave her be,” she said mildly as he staggered upright, hand clasped to his face.

“You- you-” he sputtered.

She watched the wizard move around to get a better view, but kept the bulk of her attention on the bard. “Yes? What is Khajiit?”

He lunged at her, and she shifted so he ran past her and into the bar. Hulda ended the fight by grabbing Mikael by the scruff of his neck. Dar’adhavi decided to leave her to it and sat back down as the innkeeper began scolding the bard. She nodded at Carlotta as the Imperial sat beside her.

“I don’t know how to thank you-”

Dar’adhavi waved that away. “Khajiit does not need your thanks. If you feel you must do something, leave an offering on Khajiit’s behalf.”

She ignored the woman as she thanked her and rose, then lowered her ears as the wizard sat beside her.

“You look like you could use a drink,” he started.

Her ears pinned all the way back as she got her first good whiff of him.

“Khajiit has spent enough time in Oblivion lately to recognize what You are, Lord. She knows better than to take You up on Your offer,” she said quietly.

The man- Daedra- threw back his head and laughed. She caught the glimmer of magic at the corner of her eye and looked around.

“Just to give us some privacy. Relax. I was gonna try to get you drunk, but that fight was worth it.” He drained his own tankard and pulled a bottle from his robe. “So, you’re the Madgod’s new plaything.” He offered the bottle and she considered it. “Nah, I won’t mess with you. You’re more important than you know at the moment, and I’m not willing to risk my ass for some fun. Might mess with that bard later, though.” 

She took a swig from the bottle, wincing as the liquor burned more than she was used to. She handed it back. “So, why are You here? Khajiit is curious.”

He snorted. “Boredom, mostly. Say, I don’t suppose you could do something for Me, could you?”

She considered him, then shook her head. “Khajiit is doing as Sheggorath commanded, and also carrying something she must return to Nocturnal. This one does not believe she has the time for any more favors.”

He shrugged and downed the rest of the bottle. “That’s alright, then. If you find you can, just summon me. Use a bottle of good alcohol.”

So saying he rose, swaying, and headed over to where Mikael was licking his wounds. She shook her head and requested a room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! The main plot!


	11. 10

Dar’adhavi settled into bed, slightly miffed that Hulda wasn’t charging her tonight. According to her hostess, Mikael “deserved what happened, and then some.” She didn’t feel too bad, considering Sanguine and Mikael were having a grand time when she left.

Once in the courtyard, she sought out Sheogorath. She was fairly sure the Prince wouldn’t hurt Mikael, but she wanted the reassurance. She poked her head into the throne room and was surprised to see it was empty. She tried to stifle her disappointment and scaled the palace. She tried to understand her feelings, but her introspection was broken when she saw Sheogorath lying in her usual place.

“Khajiit thought You had forgotten her,” she groused playfully as she sat next to him.

He feigned offense. “Forget My most favored mortal? Never. Although, considering how friendly you seem to be with some of the others, I’m starting to wonder if I’m your favorite Prince.”

She snorted. “Khajiit believes if she is polite, the rest will have no reason to hurt her. Besides,” she continued philosophically, “Nocturnal seemed to not care for this one, and Sanguine is much harder on his playthings. Dar’adhavi has not met any other Princes, so can not fairly compare them to You.” She considered this, then continued, “She likes the tales told of You best, though.”

He shot a look in her direction. “One might get the impression that you’re trying to butter Me up.”

She leaned back to study the sky. There were more galaxies tonight. “Khajiit wants to know what will happen to Mikael, is all.”

Sheogorath laughed. “What, the poor fool Sanguine’s playin’ with? Let’s see. Get a hagraven to fall in love with him, steal a wedding ring for same, then steal a prize-winning goat to sell for the money to pay back the ring. Probably sell it to a giant, they like goats. Then he’ll cap it off with some light blasphemy and send the poor fool on a wild hare.”

She considered this. “Dar’adhavi almost feels sorry for him.”

“Eh, don’t. Sanguine can’t do anything permanent to him while he’s drunk. ‘S against the Rules.”

She glanced over at that. “Dar’adhavi assumes telling her these ‘Rules’ is also against the Rules?”

“You would be assuming correctly, my most favorite mortal. But I think you’ve managed to figure out the shape of them. Now, off you trot. And do keep up. You’re going to need to be paying attention ahead.” 

She felt herself wake and headed downstairs. She nodded at Hulda and accepted a sack of foodstuffs and considered telling her where Mikael was, but decided against it. She collected Rogue and headed the final distance to Ustengrav, nibbling on the bounty she’d been given.

She dismounted a ways away from the fane and approached the final stretch on foot. She could smell necromancy, and a faint hint of more draugr. She saw a small number of bandits on the far side of the entrance, along with a mage, and she ignored them as she slipped inside. She was unsurprised to see a few dead bandits on the stairs, and she ignored them too as she made her way deeper inside, bow drawn.

She thought she caught a familiar scent once the draugr and mages were dealt with. She followed it, and found a hidden door. She narrowed her eyes at it and began running her fingertips over the edges. Someone had gone in and out this way, and she could find the way, too. 

She realized that it was the hunter-eyed woman from Riverwood. She snorted. Guess she’s not completely useless. She grinned when she heard the door click and took a step back as the door slid open. She trotted down the hall and into the deepest chamber. She helped herself to the coin and gems, then moved into the main room. She was unsurprised to see the draugr who guarded the chamber were dead, but was mildly shocked when she saw the horn was gone, a note left where it should be.

She opened the note and read, “Dragonborn- I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I’ll meet you. —A friend”

She snorted in amusement. _Stupid. You found this back way, anyone with enough intelligence could find this way, and now I know where to find you._ She shook her head as she pocketed the note. She could feel some power elsewhere in the tomb, and she wanted to see it. She made her way through the tomb, sneaking past a mess of skeletons and found another of those walls. She studied it, again feeling that twist, and snuck back out of the tomb and back to Rogue.

She hated dealing with humans who thought they were sneaky. They always left her itchy. She decided to just steal the horn back, instead of dealing with this “friend”.

She rode into Riverwood and stabled Rogue behind the inn. She took a breath of the cool evening air, wishing she could just sleep outside. She sighed and entered the inn. 

She was met by the hunter-eyed woman, who the bartender called “Delphine”.

“You’re that visitor, been pokin’ around,” she said, clearly mistrustful.

“Khajiit are good at poking. This one simply wishes a bed for the night.”

She clearly didn’t want to rent to a Khajiit, but she finally offered a small room for an exorbitant price. Dar’adhavi paid, knowing that she was being charged three times what the room was worth. She decided to sit in the main room and chat with the guards. She had a great deal of fun learning about the current political climate, especially the varied opinions she heard. Her ears perked up a bit at one bit of trivia, though.

“Oh? And what is this ‘Jagged Crown’? Khajiit has never heard of such.”

The guard snorted. “Have you not heard that ancient verse? ‘Maw unleashing razor snow, Of dragons from the blue brought down, Births the walking winter's woe, The High King in his Jagged Crown.’ Going way back to King Harald's time or even before, the High King always wore the Jagged Crown. It was the symbol of his might and power. The crown is made from the bones and teeth of ancient dragons, and it is said to contain a portion of the power of every king who has worn it.”

Another guard cut in. “Bunch of nonsense if you ask me. But, Ulfric is looking for it. Thinks it’ll legitimize his rule.”

She raised a brow. “And where would you look for such, were it real?”

“The last king to have it was Borgas, but he was killed while out on campaign. The Crown is probably lost, too.”

She left them to their dinners and lay in her room, waiting while everyone else sought their own beds. Once she was certain the inn was asleep, she slid out of her room. She stopped by the bar long enough to grab a rag and some bear grease. Based on how the inn was built, it should have a basement. There was no entrance in the main room, therefore, it must be hidden. Propriety said no one would look in the innkeeper’s room, so that’s where Dar’adhavi intended to look first.

Carefully, she greased the hinges of the door, sliding it open soundlessly. She let it mostly close behind her as she made her way to the only cupboard in the room. _If she’s trying to hide something, she is very bad at it._ The cupboard opened quietly, and Dar’adhavi crammed herself into it as she searched for the trigger. The back panel slid open and she headed down the stairs, shaking her head at human foolishness.

She found herself in a war room of sorts, and she rolled her eyes. She really didn’t want to work with someone so obviously paranoid and uninformed. She’d accomplish more chasing her tail.

She found a blank piece of paper and a quill and penned a note.

“Friend- if such you are- You can contact me through the Greybeards, or a more direct letter. You may wish to claim that your caution is warranted, but I refuse to trust someone who so obviously mistrusts me. —Dragonborn”

She left it in the middle of the map, slipped the horn in her pack, and slipped back into her room. Instinct was telling her to flee with the horn, but caution said that if she fled, it would be very obvious who she was. She didn’t want Delphine to know.

She wrapped the horn in a shirt and buried it at the bottom of her pack and flopped into bed.

She glared up at the clouds obscuring the skies and made her way into the throne room. Haskill stood in his usual place, looking very put out. Sheogorath, on the other hand, was half falling off his throne as he was laughing so hard.

She approached and sat on the steps of the dais, waiting for the Daedra to collect himself. 

“You- you-” he wiped his face and looked down at her. She met his gaze with the most innocent mien she could muster, which set him off again.

She looked over at Haskill. “So, what did Khajiit do to set Him off?”

Haskill sighed. “The individual you left the letter to is one of the few remaining members of an order called the Blades.” She straightened at that. “Yes. The Blades who were the guards of the Emperor, recently eradicated by the Aldmeri Dominion. Their order is sworn in service to the various Dragonborn who have turned up over the centuries. They fancy themselves dragon hunters. Delphine, who will receive your letter, is technically the highest ranked Blade still living. And she will most definitely take your letter as an insult. The Blades and the Greybeards have never gotten along.”

She considered this. “If Dar’adhavi had cooperated, what would this Blade have her do?”

Sheogorath seemed to get himself under control. “Prove you are what you claim, probably by killing a dragon. They’re really not very creative, the Blades.”

She nodded, considering. “There are others, yes? Less… less than her that Dar’adhavi could speak with?”

“Well, there are others. But they’re quite a bit more. Might want to go speak to one of ‘em anyway. Man named Esbern. He’s got more bend in his mind than that one.” Sheogorath gazed silently into the middle distance for a while.

“So, since you can not tell Khajiit where to find this Esbern, can you point in a direction she should begin searching?”

Sheogorath studied her through half-lidded eyes. She thought the sliver of topaz was rather chilling, and hoped that her amber glare could measure up. Finally, he addressed her. “You’ve been given the resources. You’ve already got the pieces. You’ve got the wit and the cunning. You wouldn’t have gotten this far, otherwise. I can’t spoon-feed you the answers to everything.”

She wrinkled a nose at him. “But this one hates wading through sewers, and the Thalmor smell worse,” she whined as she rose. “The oder clings to the fur.”

She heard a noise that didn’t fit the throne room, and rolled to wakefulness with a knife to someone’s throat. She stared down at Delphine, then pointedly shifted her gaze to Delphine’s hand in her pack.

“Khajiit wonders,” she finally said, “Why this inn charges three times as much as the Bannered Mare, only to have the innkeeper go through this one’s pack.”

She saw the yellow of a guard’s tunic move past her half-opened door, and she whistled. The guard opened the door, cautious. He stopped when he saw the scene, a Khajiit in a tunic in bed, knife held to the throat of the innkeeper, kneeling by the bed, one hand in the pack.

She removed her dagger and nodded at the guard. “Khajiit was passing through Riverwood on business of her own and woke to find this thief attempting to paw through her belongings.”

Delphine sputtered at that, and the guard looked down at her. While it did look badly for the Blade, Dar’adhavi decided to make it a bit worse. She didn’t want the woman to accuse her of a theft she committed.

“Dar’adhavi would see this thief punished.”

The guard’s head jerked around. “Dar’adhavi, the new Thane?”

She inclined her head, grabbing her pack away from Delphine as she stared in shock. She fought down a smile as she heard some of the others murmur about “Dragonborn”. “Yes. Khajiit is Thane of Whiterun, and Dragonborn. She has no idea why this… woman was attempting to steal from her, but this one is merciful. Should she refund the thirty septims she was charged for the night, this one will overlook this… indiscretion.”

The guard gestured behind him, and two of his fellows entered and grabbed Delphine. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but the Jarl’s rules on thieves are explicit. She’ll be taken to Dragonsreach, fined, and stripped of any stolen property. But, I can go ahead and return your money now.”

She collected the money, then considered the time. It would probably be best if she headed out, as it was only a few hours earlier than she planned. She saddled Rogue and turned at the sound of wings. She sighed in annoyance and dropped her pack, drawing her bow. The guards escorting Delphine had let her go once the dragon roared, and she nodded in approval as they ranged around the town to prepare to fight the dragon.

It landed on the roof of the inn, and she hissed annoyance at it. She thought she could Shout flame at it, but she didn’t want to set the inn ablaze. She settled for her arrows, and dodged as the dragon turned to her an Shouted ice at her. _Wait, dragons can do ice, too? Damn. What were the words…_

She shoved someone out of the way of another blast, and hissed again. She had almost gotten them that time. She shot it again, and dodged behind the cover of the forge. Grinning, she emerged from cover.

“Fo Krah Diin!” she Shouted, and was gratified to see a flash of surprise on the dragon’s face. The dragon fell, and she waited through the glowing roar again, then turned to collect Rogue. She cocked an eyebrow at Delphine as she passed. The woman was looking like the whole world had changed in an instant. _Bet she had me pegged as a Thalmor agent,_ she mused as she mounted and rode back to Ivarstead.

She stabled Rogue at the inn again, and sighed as she hiked her way up the mountain. She liked the Greybeards. She did. But Gods, did she hate the climb up to see them. She groused about inconsiderate gods and wings until she saw High Hrothgar ahead, and she collected herself. Her anger and annoyance seemed… petty up here. She felt calmer.

She entered and nodded at Borri, glancing around to see if she could find Arngeir. She eventually found him in the tower in the courtyard.

“Dar’adhavi has the Horn,” she said, pulling it from its wrappings and presenting it.

He turned when she spoke. “Well done. You have now passed all the trials. Come with me. It is time for us to recognize you formally as Dragonborn.”

She followed him back into the main hall, where the others were waiting.

“You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force, ‘Dah’, which means ‘Push’.”

He gestured, and Wulfgar stepped forward. “Dah.”

She let the word burn into her, and accepted Wulfgar’s knowledge. She took a moment to settle herself before turning back to Arngeir. She could feel the power crackling along her nerves. It was… interesting and unsettling.

“You have completed your training, Dragonborn. We would Speak to you. Stand between us, and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready.”

She stood in her arena and waited.

In unison, the men chanted, “Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.”

“Dovahkiin. You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you,” Arngeir said as the others returned to their meditations.

She considered what they had said. “Khajiit is somewhat confused. You called her Ysmir, but this one thought that was simply another name for Talos. This one is no god.”

Arngeir gave a faint smile. “As Dragonborn, you are heir to a number of Talos’s titles. You are now the Dragon of the North. You are now Stormcrown. You have power, child, and the will to use it. What you chose to do with your power, only you can decide. The Dragonborn is an exception to all the rules; the Dragon Blood itself is a gift from the gods. You have received the ability to Shout directly from Akatosh. However, simply because you have the titles, does not mean you must claim them.”

She nodded, mind racing. “Khajiit will need to meditate on this. May this one remain the night?”

He agreed, leaving her to collect blankets and build a nest in the meditation tower. She settled in, feeling a dragon nearby, but deciding to sleep as it seemed the dragon wasn’t going to approach.

When she found herself in the courtyard again, she walked around the covered walkway and sat before a statue of Sheggorath set into a wall. She didn’t look around when she heard footsteps approach.

“Dar’adhavi does not wish to speak, leave this one be.”

The footsteps paused, and after a long wait, retreated.

She spent the rest of her night studying the statue, mind racing.

She woke without having come to terms with anything that had happened. As she was strapping on her armor, she realized that the dragon was still nearby. Curious, she grabbed her gear and left the tower. She glanced over at the path that went further up the mountain, then at the mountain peak. She recalled that Arngeir said their leader lived up there, and she could still sense that dragon.

She dug out her rope, tossing the claw as far up the cliff as she could. She scaled it with some difficulty, but the rope simplified things considerably. She had to throw her claw a few more times, but she was hardly winded by the time she reached the peak.

She reached a place where the mountain leveled out, and she looked around. She saw a wall, similar to those she had seen in the tombs, except this was blank. She couldn’t see much else. She shrugged and headed to the wall. She thought to simply eat a snack and hike down the mountain. She looked around again at the sound of wings.

She drew her bow, tracking the dragon she had been sensing. She drew as it landed across from the wall.

The dragon cocked it head at her and she slowly released the draw.

“Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah?”

She slowly removed the arrow, sheathing the bow. “Drem Yol Lok. Khajiit is Dovahkiin. This one was not expecting you to be a dragon.”

“I am as my father Akatosh made me. As are you, Dovahkiin.”

She and the dragon stared at each other for a while. Finally, Paarthurnax broke the silence. 

“Tell me. Why do you come here, volaan? Why do you intrude on my meditation?”

She walked over to the wall and sat. “Khajiit does not know. She has a destiny she does not know how to accomplish, and a distaste for those to whom Fate is directing her.” She sighed, resting her head against the wall. “It is unlikely that you would be persuaded to tell Khajiit how to defeat Alduin, yes?”

“Drem. Patience. There are formalities which must be observed, at the first meeting of two of the dov[Dragons, dragon kind]. By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones! Match it, if you are Dovahkiin! Yol Toor Shul!”

She didn’t move as she was engulfed in flames. She twitched an ear as her vision cleared.

“Now, show me what you can do. Greet me not as khajiit, but as dovah! Do not be afraid. Faasnu. Let me feel the power of your Thu'um.”

She shrugged and repeated his shout. She was slightly amused to see how much he enjoyed it.

“Aaah… yes! Sossedov los mul. The dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind. So. You have made your way here, to me. No easy task for a joor. Even for one of Dovah Sos. Dragonblood. What would you ask of me?”

She shrugged, checking the contents of her pack. Everything seemed alright, but her cheese had softened. She fished it out and took a bite.

“Khajiit must find a way to fight Alduin. He has not sought her out, so this one must find him. Can you assist?”

The dragon considered this. “Hmm. Krosis. There is a Shout, Dragonrend, that was used in the past, but I do not know it. If you could find a Kel, you could use the Tiid Ahran to see what was done. Perhaps the wuth dov kiraan, the Blades, could help.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then sighed. “Khajiit thinks you could do more, perhaps. But you are the second to direct her there, so there she will go.”

“Saraan. A few words to ease your path.” He turned to the wall and Shouted, “Lok Vah Koor!”

She studied the words and took them in. She accepted his knowledge of the meanings, noting that it felt more familiar than from the Greybeards.

She headed down the mountain, using the new shout to help ease the way, and saddled up Rogue. She thought she’d stop by the Guild and see if Delvin or Brynjolf knew anything about the Blades. And maybe drop off Nocturnal’s trinket along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!
> 
> Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok. -"Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North, hearken to it."
> 
> Drem Yol Lok-Greetings. Literally “Peace Fire Sky”
> 
> wunduniik-Traveler
> 
> strunmah-mountain
> 
> volaan-intruder
> 
> wuth dov kiraan-Dragon slayers of old


	12. 11

She rode down the end of the path, annoyed at the inconvenience. Damn temple was practically in Cyrodiil. She dismounted, and left Rogue loosely tied to a tree. She hoped Rogue wouldn’t need to fight off anything. She entered the temple.

She was unsurprised to find it was dark. She supposed the Men and Mer who worshiped here would be properly intimidated. She thought Nocturnal would find it amusing. She stopped when a voice broke the silence.

“I don't recognize you, but I sense you are one of us. Who are you?”

She studied the ghost that guarded the path, noting he wore the same armor she and Brynjolf had been gifted.

“Khajiit could ask the same question of you.”

The ghost sighed. “The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity.”

“The last? What happened to the rest?” she asked.

“We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here.”

“How are you to blame?” She was beginning to have a suspicion as to who the ghost was.

“I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key.”

“So. You're Gallus.”

“I haven't heard that name in a long time. How do you know of me?” He seemed surprised.

“Khajiit has the Key.”

“The Key! You have the Skeleton Key! I never thought I'd see it again. And Mercer Frey?”

She bared her teeth in a grin. “Dead.”

“Then… it's over and my death wasn't in vain. I owe you a great deal, Nightingale.”

She sighed. “Khajiit is no Nightingale. She did this out of vengeance.”

He nodded, accepting her answer without comment. “My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone.”

She shrugged. “Karliah helped this one.”

“Karliah! She's still alive? I feared she'd befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer's betrayal.” He almost seemed to glow when he mentioned her.

She looked at the Key and up at Gallus. “Khajiit assumes she can not leave the Key with you, can she?”

“Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible. From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself… well… dying.”

“How can a spirit die?”

“The Sepulcher isn't merely a temple or a vault to house the Key. Within these walls is the Ebonmere; a conduit to Nocturnal's realm of Evergloam. When Mercer stole the key, that conduit closed, severely limiting our ties to her.”

She sighed. “Of course. None of this has been simple, why should this? Khajiit will return it alone, then.”

“I'm afraid so. I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without restoration of my power have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key.”

“What will this one face in the Pilgrim's Path?”

“I wish I could help you, but I've been a prisoner in this very chamber for the last quarter century. The only possible help I've come across are the remains of some poor fellow who was trying to follow in your footsteps. Perhaps his journal can help?”

She found the body Gallus had mentioned, and read his journal. It seemed simple enough, and very much in keeping with Nocturnal.

She memorized the “tests” written and headed into the temple.

"Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers,” she muttered to herself as she watched the shadowy wraiths wander around the room. She slid silently over to a bookcase and examined the potions lined up on the shelf. She grinned when she found a potion of limited invisibility and downed it. Once it took hold, she hurried as quietly as she could past the guardians, feeling it wear off as she reached the door to the next chamber.

"Above all they stand, vigilance everlasting. Beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow. What in Oblivion does- oh." She looked into the room, struck at the size. There were a number of ziggurats and great torches. She took a step forward and leapt back, hissing in pain as the light burned.

“Right. Mistress of Shadow,” she muttered as she followed the pools of shadow around the room.

She opened the next door, warier now, but there was only a statue to the daedra flanked by two torches.

"Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried,” she muttered, pacing back and forth before the statue. She glared at the torches. She extinguished them, and once the last ember was out a door slid open past the statue.

"Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish." She looked to either side of the main Path and found a door. She picked the lock and slid soundlessly along, gazing down at a room filled with treasures, and the guardian on the far side. She shook her head at a corpse she saw pinned to a pillar.

"The journey is complete, the Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion,” she recited as she walked along the final stretch. She stopped at the edge of a great pit. “Really?”

She sighed and jumped in, landing next to a skeleton. She drew the Key and stuck it into the floor. She dropped into a room below, and a portal opened. Nocturnal rose, two crows on each shoulder.

“My, my. What do we have here? It's been a number of years since I've stepped foot on your world. Or perhaps it's been moments. One tends to lose track. Ah, but it is the Madgod’s plaything who returned the Key. Well done. Don't mistake my tone for displeasure, after all, you've obediently performed your duties to the letter. But we both know this has little to do with honor and oaths and loyalty. It's about the reward; the prize. Fear not. You'll have your trinkets, your desire for power, your hunger for wealth. See to it the Key stays this time won't you?”

She disappeared as suddenly as she appeared and Dar’adhavi sighed. _Drama, drama, drama._ She left the Ebonmere and found herself back in the entry hall.

She nodded to Gallus as she left. “Khajiit will send Karliah here soon.”

He beamed at her and she went to collect her horse. She rode off, wondering if Nocturnal was always like that.

_Yes. Yes she is. Aren’t you glad you’re workin’ for someone as nice as Me?_ Dovahsebrom. Dragon blood. She glanced at the channels again and sighed. If I bleed for nothing, I’ll- She drew her knife and nicked the back of her hand, letting several drops fall into the channels. There was a glow as the latent magic and her blood combined, and she stood, casting a small healing spell on her hand, as the face rose, revealing a door.

She entered the temple, lighting the great torches as she passed. She glanced at a massive carved mural, then moved on, seeking out the library. After a bit of poking, she found a sword and some scattered armor, but no library. She pinned back her ears and headed out the back door. She looked for a way down that wouldn’t alert the Forsworn to her presence. She slid her way down the mountainside and collected her horse. As she was preparing to ride off, the wind shifted and she caught scent of Delphine and Esbern. She hissed in annoyance, but rode to meet them.

“You are wasting your time. There is nothing there,” she said as Delphine glared daggers at her.

“I find that unlikely, Dragonborn. The old Blades could hide things quite well,” Esbern said, apparently oblivious to the tension between the two women.

“Khajiit thinks it unlikely she missed something, but she will show you the back way in,” she said, reining Rogue around again.

“Back way? Why not go in the front?” Delphine demanded.

Dar’adhavi sighed. “Because there is a large number of Forsworn camped upon the entrance, and Khajiit does not wish to fight them all.”

Delphine drew her sword, apparently ready to fight them anyway, and Dar’adhavi moved Rogue into her path. Glaring down at the older woman, she continued. “They live here. Khajiit does not hold with pointless slaughter. There is a way around them. Sheathe your weapon, Blade.”

“Delphine, it’s for the best,” Esbern murmured.

With an angry sigh, Delphine sheathed her sword. They glared at each other for a while longer, then Dar’adhavi led the way to the path she had taken down.

“Khajiit can ride up and tie off a rope.”

Esbern nodded. “Yes, fine. I hope the locals aren’t camped at the very door of the temple?”

“No. There are puzzles. They did not seem to bother with them. And there was a sigil just outside. The door was not revealed until Dar’adhavi spilled her blood upon it.”

Esbern seemed delighted. Dar’adhavi shook her head in amusement as he began lecturing Delphine about Akiviri blood seals. She dismounted in the courtyard, grabbing a hemp rope she had picked up somewhere and tying it to one of the posts in the yard. She flung it down, checking to make sure it was long enough. Once she was sure the Blades were on their way up, she untacked Rogue and gave her a good rubdown.

She was finishing up as Esbern reached the ledge, and she followed him into the Temple. “There is a carving in the main hall.Dar’adhavi thinks that is the one you want.”

She hid a smile as Esbern crooned over the Wall like it was his firstborn. She watched him study it, tail twitching. After he spent several minutes on the first panel, she sighed and walked up the stairs and perched above the wall. 

“Well, it mentions a Shout, presumably the one you’re looking for, but no details about it. Hmm… Give me a moment. There might be more information encoded in some of the other murals.” Esbern wandered off, muttering quietly to himself.

Dar’adhavi considered taking a quick nap, but she knew she’d never sleep with Delphine in the area. She lay back, watching the sky through the mountain top, hearing Delphine moving around furniture in what Dar’adhavi had guessed was the barracks. She flicked an ear.

“We still don’t know who’s behind the dragons returning,” Delphine said from behind them.

Dar’adhavi rolled her eyes. “And who do you think is responsible, hmm?”

“The Thalmor are our best lead. If they aren’t involved, they’ll know who is.”

Dar’adhavi stared at her, jaw slack. “Khajiit has been blessed by Sheggorath. She thinks you have been blessed a bit more.” Delphine glared at her as Esbern tried, and failed, to turn a laugh into a cough. “Khajiit has seen Alduin. Alduin is bringing dragons back to life. Or do you wish to claim that the World Eater is in the employ of the Aldmeri Dominion? Tongues long past cast him adrift in time, his return was foretold.” She lay back again, waving a hand airily. “Besides, all know that the Thalmor claim to have accomplished things done by others.”

Esbern turned to Delphine. “She’s right. The Wall and the various prophecies are very clear. Alduin was only cast adrift, and the arrival of the last Dragonborn would herald his return.” He paused and turned to Dar’adhavi. “That might actually be the solution you need. An Elder Scroll. I believe the dwarves had one near here. You should be able to read it at the site of Alduin’s defeat and learn the Shout you need that way.”

She blinked at him. “And where is Dar’adhavi to find an elder scroll?”

Esbern turned back to the wall he had been studying. “I believe… Alftand is the closest entrance.”

She shrugged and went to tack Rogue. “Khajiit will leave you to your translations, then.”

“You’re not going alone,” Delphine said.

Dar’adhavi blinked at her. “Yes, this one is. Firstly, because you have run from every fight this one knows about. And second, because you are a paranoid idiot. You have done nothing to impress Dar’adhavi, and Dar’adhavi will not support dead weight. The Blades are sworn to serve the Dragonborn, yes?” She squared her shoulders, leveling Delphine with a look. “I do not take orders from you, human. Now stand aside.”

She shoved past the taller woman and marched outside. Once the doors were closed behind her, she turned and hissed. Then, she took a deep breath and tacked Rogue and rode down the mountain again. She traveled to Rorikstead for the night, still fuming.

Once she was in the courtyard she clambered to the roof of the palace and began pacing furiously.

“She isn’t, you know,” Sheogorath said, leaning against one of the roof decorations.

She blinked at him, confused. He continued, stepping over to join her. “Delphine. She isn’t one of mine. She just deludes herself into believing she’s more important than she is.” He grabbed her hand, tugging lightly. “Come. You’ll need to be here for this.”

She took a step forward and staggered against him when she was suddenly in a vast ballroom. She looked around, surprised. She recognized Sanguine, and Nocturnal, and thought she recognized a few of the other Daedric Princes. There were assorted dremora acting as servers throughout the room. She did a swift count, and realized that there were more than just the daedric princes here. There had to be.

She dug her claws into Sheogorath’s arm, but he didn’t seem to mind. “What are You doing?” she hissed.

“Just a little party, my dear. After all, I’m sure you were told how special you were. But, since you’re you, I’ll give you some free advice. Trust your gut, don’t ask any questions, and stick close.”

“Why did you bring your mortal here?” a voice asked, archly.

Sheogorath turned to face the speaker, baring his teeth in a grin. “I like her, and I think she should know the full scale of what she’s facing. Besides Mora is here, and she needs something of his.”

“Indeed.” The figure, who appeared to be a tall, lean Redguard, looked down at her, then back up at Sheogorath. “Go and fetch your trinket, then. I’ll host her until your return.”

Sheogorath bowed and left, and Dar’adhavi and her new host studied each other. “I don’t know if he warned you, but curiosity would not be helpful to you now.”

“Khajiit was warned. And this one thanks you for your protection.” Her companion seemed surprised at the thanks, but bowed shallowly and turned as Sheogorath returned.

Sheogorath took her arm, and brought them back to his palace. He tossed her a sphere that looked to be made of dwemer materials and dropped into his throne. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he muttered as she studied the sphere. He shook off his mood, beaming at her. “So. That bauble will be with you when you wake, and you’ll need it to get in. Off you trot.”

She felt herself waking. 

She rolled over, hand finding a metal sphere. How had He gotten that? She wracked her brain, but couldn’t remember. She had been in the palace, and then… She twitched her tail. She couldn’t remember. She shoved the uneasiness that fact raised aside. She needed to focus. She got ready and rode out.


	13. 12

She followed the road past Whiterun and turned north. She was hoping to camp outside of Alftand tonight. She and Rogue outran most obstacles, much to her amusement, and they made good time. They were riding through the snow in some woods when Dar’adhavi heard a commotion just off the road. She considered, and decided to check it out. She led Rogue to a stand of trees and cautiously approached. There was a group of Stormcloaks fighting a group of Imperials on the steps of a ruin. Intrigued, she slipped past them into the ruins, looking for a commander she could eavesdrop on.

As she journeyed deeper into the ruin, she was left unsatisfied as no one was discussing their reasons for being there. She huffed and slid deeper into the tomb, feeling that there was one of those Walls ahead. She avoided the fighting and entered a giant chamber. She was mildly surprised to find that she had reached it first.

She approached the Wall, passing a mummy in a strange crown seated on a throne. She furrowed her brow. Is that… Son of a- She swore and ducked as the draugr woke and took a swipe at her. She caught the Word out of the corner of her eye, shaking her head to clear her vision. She dodged a blow, then leapt at the draugr, snatching the crown from his head and dashing out of the hall, hearing the draugr hard on her heels.

She rushed towards a mixed group of soldiers, shouting “Ware!” as she ran past and toward the exit. She slowed a bit when she heard the soldiers and the draugr fighting. Panting lightly, she shoved the crown into her pack and slunk out of the tomb. When she was back outside and heading north, she pulled out the crown and studied it.

_It looks like dragon teeth. This is the Jagged Crown?_

She jumped a bit when Sheogorath answered her. _Correct on both counts, as it happens. And, since Ulfric was looking for it to legitimize his claim to the throne, and that Imperial General Tullius was trying to keep it from him, I think you’ve made some new enemies, kitten._

She snorted and rode on, stowing the crown in her pack. She found the ruins of an expedition and stabled Rogue in the ruins of a shed that looked like the former headquarters. She poked around, not finding anything useful, and dumped some grain into a bucket for Rogue. She went and filled a second bucket with snow, summoning some flames to melt it on her way back. She untacked her horse and decided to rest before delving into the ruin. 

She settled down in a ruined tent that was intact enough to survive the night, hearing Rogue munching contentedly in the makeshift barn.

She didn’t visit the palace that night.

Her dreams were a whirl of colors and sounds. She thought she saw Jarl Balgruuf, but the visions whirled on, and she couldn’t be sure. She saw a warrior guarding a bridge, and a sky unlike any she had ever seen, and she heard Shouting but couldn’t hear the words.

She rose, shaking off the visions. She checked on Rogue and made her way into the ruin. 

She wasn’t very far into the ruin when she smelled blood. She crouched, drawing her bow. She couldn’t smell or hear anyone close by, but she decide caution was necessary. She slunk through the ruin, tensing a bit when she heard a Khajiit ahead. He was raving, and as she listened, she realized he was a skooma addict without skooma. She winced as she heard him raving at his brother, claiming he was hiding it.

She came around a corner and saw him, crouched over the still form of another Khajiit and muttering. She shot him before he could turn, and moved on, sending up a quick prayer for the brothers.

She came across most of the rest of the party, scattered throughout the ruin. It was obvious that they hadn’t known about the Falmer living deeper within. She shook her head at the waste, sneaking past the Falmer deeper into the maze of tunnels.

She paused, hearing an argument ahead. She peered around a pillar. Both human, both heavily armed. She shrugged and left them to it, ignoring as the argument turned to a brawl, then a fight. She picked off the victor and studied the entrance. There was an elevator to the surface, opposite a ledge with a round hole. She found the sphere and placed it in the hole, jumping back as the floor descended into a staircase.

She approached the stairs, unsure. She was reasonably certain she had to go down there, but it smelled… off. She whined for a bit, knowing that if she didn’t, Alduin would win, and Sheogorath would make the remainder of her life a living hell. She whined a bit more, for the hell of it, and slowly walked down the steps. 

The stairs deposited her in a massive cavern. She gazed around, awed. There were intact buildings near where she stood, and a path that meandered deeper into the cavern. She slunk past some Falmer and froze. _There’s a dragon down here._

She turned toward where she felt the dragon. It was a vast, well-lit complex, lit by a massive golden orb hanging from the ceiling. She started to pass it by, she didn’t like the smell of it, but stopped when she heard a roar from the dragon within. It sounded almost… afraid. She looked in the direction she thought she should be headed to find the Scroll, then turned and made her way to the complex. 

Once at the head of the stairs, she froze, stunned. There were men, and khajiit, and mer mixed in with the Falmer in the center of the complex. They had managed to snare the dragon, the sighted in the group tossing ropes over the dragon’s form and tying it down. The dragon tossed its head, freeing itself briefly, and it saw her. It seemed just as surprised as she, and the brief distraction allowed the Falmer to recapture its head.

The dragon stared at her, then whispered, “Lig, krii miir.”

She blinked at that, then shot the Falmer standing on the dragon’s head. She sniped as many as she could, drawing Gallus’s blade as they swarmed her. She lost herself in the fight, Shouting Fire and Force to give herself some space, but her attackers wouldn’t stop. She considered running, swearing to herself as she realized she was cut off. She had just about resigned herself to her death when the dragon unceremoniously grabbed an attacker and dropped him on a cluster of his fellows. The dragon flew back, strafing the group with fire, and she used the distraction to finish off a few more. 

She and the dragon wiped out the group in short order, then the dragon landed at the foot of the stairs she had come up. She studied him warily.

“Drem yol lok,” she offered, bracing to duck behind a wall if the dragon attacked.

“Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin. Kogan unslaad.”

She relaxed a bit, sheathing her sword. “ _I feel like we’re even, now. You didn’t have to come back._ ”

The dragon snorted, amusement plain. “ _You must not have spoken to many dragons. Our souls are now entwined. You are the sibling of my soul, now. I must save you, and you must save me, from now, until the end of time. If either of us breaks that bond, the world will weep._ ”

She considered his words as she collected her arrows. When she returned, she sat on a step so she was eye-level with the dragon. “ _I am Dar’adhavi. How did you come to be here? I didn’t think there was an opening large enough for a dragon._ ”

“ _There isn’t._ ” He glanced away, then back at her. “ _I was banished here by Alduin, for daring to stand against his will. I am Vulthuryol._ ”

She nodded and rose. “ _I am looking for an Elder Scroll. I know there is one close. I also think that you could go up one of the great lift shafts the Dwemer left._ ”

He seemed to consider her words. “ _I will help you to reach the tower where the Scroll is kept, if you will open one of the gates._ ”

She nodded, heading to what looked like the closest lift. She opened the gates and looked up the shaft, then back at Vulthuryol. “ _Wait a moment. I think there is a gate at the top, as well._ ”

She activated the lever, and settled in for the long ride to the surface. She was surprised to see Rogue and the ruined campsite outside of the grate. She opened it, leaving it propped open as she rode back down.

Vulthuryol was waiting when she left the lift. “ _It will be clear for you. I ask one thing, when you leave, there is a horse near where you will emerge. Please leave her unharmed._ ”

Vulthuryol stuck his head into the shaft, craning upward. “ _Yes. I can smell the fresh air. But come. You need your Scroll._ ” He looked into the depths of Blackreach, then back at her. “ _It would be swifter, I think, if you climbed upon my back. There are many more Falmer, and trolls, and giants, and you walk slowly._ ”

She huffed in annoyance at him, but climbed onto his neck. She had to stifle a yelp when he rose, and she felt him chuckling under her. “Khajiit aren’t meant to fly,” she muttered as he glided in to land on the walkway to a tower.

“ _Your Scroll is in there, Dragonborn. I know not if there is an exit from within. I will wait here for you._ ”

She slid from his back and entered the tower, finding another lift inside. She rode it up, and was surprised to see the remains of an expedition. She cautiously walked into the room, but she smelled nothing but dust. Satisfied, she entered the main room.

The room was huge, but taken up almost entirely by a massive sphere. She mounted a platform overlooking the sphere and stared at it. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend how it worked. She saw a row of buttons, and poked the only uncovered one, jumping back when the cover came off a second button as the rings around the sphere shifted. She poked the buttons a few more times, the rings around the sphere shifting each time, when suddenly a second button’s cover slid back. She poked this new button, causing the great lenses to swing around in different alignments on the ceiling, until the final button was revealed. She poked that one, and a smalled sphere swung down from the ceiling and opened, revealing a scroll.

She grabbed it and headed back to the lift down. She wanted to meet up with Vulthuryol, and she was miles away from Rogue, even if there was an exit. 

As the lift came to a stop, she could tell Vulthuryol was surprised to see her. She shrugged as she walked over to him. He didn’t ask, just lowered his head so she could jump on his neck. They flew back to the lift in silence. She felt him tense as they approached the gate, and she screamed as he twisted and flew up the shaft. He had to climb the last dozen feet or so, but she could feel him laughing. She rolled off onto the snow as he launched into the air.

She got up, dusting herself off, and went to tack Rogue. She was only a few miles away when he swooped down and landed next to her, easily keeping pace as Rogue danced in fear. 

“ _So, Dragonborn, what are you planning on doing with the Scroll, now that you have it?_ ”

She brought Rogue back under control, then answered, “ _Supposedly, this will help me get a weapon to defeat Alduin._ ”

The dragon side-eyed her. “ _You are going to fight the World-Eater? Impressive. What aid do you have?_ ”

“ _Another dragon, Paarthurnax-_ ” she stopped when Vulthuryol did. “What?”

“ _Paarthurnax was Alduin’s second when I was imprisoned. He was… fearsome in battle. I think only Alduin and Grahkaalah were fiercer._ ”

She shrugged. “He now teaches mortals The Way of The Voice, and meditates on the Thu’um, whatever he was before.”

She hid a giggle at his expression. She had never seen a dragon look flummoxed before. “You speak truth. How… Where is he? I need to speak with him.”

“Near the Time Wound. I will meet you there.”

Vulthuryol flew off, and she wished him well. She kept riding south, planning on actually checking on the Guild’s doings before she left again. She stabled Rogue outside the city, and trudged to the back entry to the Cistern. She waved at Karliah as she was stripping off her armor, and dropped onto the nearest bed. She was asleep before she landed.

She walked to the palace, intending to ask about the last two night’s dreams. Sheogorath wasn’t in the throne room, so she climbed to the roof. He wasn’t there, either. Brow furrowed, she dropped from the roof to find Haskill. The chamberlain was waiting stiffly next to the throne.

“Dar’adhavi has had… unusual dreams these past two nights. She hoped to ask the Skooma Cat about them.”

He sighed. “The first, you were taken to a… situation where you should not have been brought. It is not done for mortals to meet the Divines.” She sat, shocked, as he continued, “The second, you were gifted certain information from one of the Divines that My Lord is not permitted to tell you. You will be able to recall it when you need it.”

She blinked, digesting the information. “So… Is His Lordship in trouble?”

“Not as such, but you will not be permitted to speak with him until after Alduin is attended to.”

She nodded and left, intending to watch the sky to pass her time. She let her mind wander, wondering which Divine she had met, and if she made a good impression.

She woke, feeling a little groggy, and grabbed a wedge of cheese and a half-loaf of bread as she made her way to the Guildmaster’s desk. She ate as she flipped through the book, brow lowering at every line.

“And what’s tweaked your tail this morning, lass?” Brynjolf asked.

She glared at him from across the desk. “These ratios are off. The Guildmaster shouldn’t be getting more than 15 percent. The difference should be going into the Guild.”

He blinked, surprised. “Well, now. I think that’s a first, a Guildmaster demanding a smaller share.”

She snorted, going back to the book. “This one also unstole a thing.” She looked up as he laughed, eyes serious. “This one has spoken to Gallus, and seen the cost of Mercer’s betrayal. Dar’adhavi is wealthy enough at the moment, the Guild is not. And, besides, there are enough thieves that even 15 of each take is still rather substantial, no?” 

She went over the various jobs with Brynjolf for the rest of the morning. Karliah joined them after a bit, giving Dar’adhavi’s shoulder a squeeze in silent thanks. After a brief lunch, spent with Delvin and Vex and planning new jobs, she rode out to Ivarstead. She could, faintly, sense two dragons, as she stabled Rogue, and she was interested to note that they “felt” different from each other. She guessed it was Paarthurnax and Vulthuryol, at the Throat. She began to climb, and once she was past the last of the Pilgrims, she heard a noise. She glanced over to see Vulthuryol landing on a small ledge.

“Dovahkiin. You still walk slowly. Come! A battle awaits!”

She sighed and climbed onto his back, eyes squeezed shut as she felt him strain upwards. “What do you mean, a battle?”

He laughed as he landed, “Alduin is certain to know what you plan. He comes to challenge you. Paarthurnax and I will assist you against him.”

Paarthurnax nodded as she dismounted. “You have it. The Kel- the Elder Scroll. Tiid kreh… qalos. Time shudders at its touch. There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kogaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal. Go then. Fulfill your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound. Do not delay. Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs.”

She walked over to the Time Wound, feeling her fur stand on end at the feeling. She pulled out the Scroll and opened it, flinching as a burst of light and patterns seared into her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision, and looked out upon a slaughter. There were mortal and dragon dead piled around her, and she saw three mortals, humans, dancing with the battle. She watched, unable to move, as a woman slew another dragon and wiped blood from her mouth. 

A new dragon landed, and the man yelled, “Gormlaith! We're running out of time! The battle-”

He was cut off as the dragon Shouted Fire at him.

The dragon almost purred, “Daar sul thur se Alduin vakrii. Today Alduin's lordship will be restored. But I honor your courage. Krif voth ahkrin. Die now, in vain.”

The man charged the dragon, shouting, “For Skyrim!”

She watched the battle, impressed. The woman, Gormlaith, lept onto the dragon’s head.

“Know that Gormlaith sent you down to your death!” she cried, stabbing it through the eye. She leapt clear as the dragon flee and lay still. She turned to th emen, a fierce smile on her face. “Hakon! A glorious day, is it not!”

Hakon shook his head, eyes on the circling dragons overhead. “Have you no thought beyond the blooding of your blade?”

“What else is there?” Gormlaith demanded.

“The battle below goes ill. If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all may be lost.”

She scoffed. “You worry too much, brother. Victory will be ours.”

“Why does Alduin hang back?” Hakon snarled. “We've staked everything on this plan of yours, old man.”

The wizard raised a hand, placating. “He will come. He cannot ignore our defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?”

“We've bloodied him well. Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day,” Gormlaith replied. 

“But one have yet stood against Alduin himself. Galthor, Sorri, Birkir…”

Gormlaith dismissed him. “They did not have Dragonrend. Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head.”

“You do not understand. Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength. Which is why I brought the Elder Scroll.”

Hakon turned, shocked. “Felldir! We agreed not to use it!”

“I never agreed. And if you are right, I will not need it.”

“No. We will deal with Alduin ourselves, here and now.”

The men turned at Gormlaith’s cry. “We shall see soon enough. Alduin approaches!”

The great black dragon landed on the Wall and faced the humans. “Meyye! Tahrodiis aanne! Him hinde pah liiv! Zu'u hin daan![Fools! Users of traitorous arts! I will wither you! I am your doom!]”

“Let those that watch from Sovngarde envy us this day!” Gormlaith cried.

The three stood before Alduin and Shouted, “Joor zah Frul!”

Dar’adhavi watched as the power of the Words bound Alduin, keeping him from flying away.

Alduin looked around, dazed. “Nivahriin joorre! What have you done? What twisted Words have you created?! Tahrodiis Paarthurnax! My teeth to his neck! But first… dir ko maar. You will die in terror, knowing your final fate… To feed my power when I come for you in Sovngarde!”

“If I die today, it will not be in terror. You feel fear for the first time, worm. I see it in your eyes.” Gormlaith charged Alduin as the others attacked.

Hakon cried out as Gormlaith was slain by Alduin and attacked with greater vigor, but was swiftly wounded. Felldir stepped back and pulled out the Scroll, opening it and reading aloud. 

“Hold, Alduin on the Wing! Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard! Begone, World-Eater! By words with older bones than your own we break your perch on this age and send you out! You are banished! Alduin, we shout you out from all our endings unto the last!”

Alduin glared as magics wrapped around him. “Faal Kel?! Niikriinne…”

Alduin vanished as Felldir finished, “You are banished!”

Hakon gasped at his feet, “It worked… you did it….”

“Yes, the World-Eater is gone… may the spirits have mercy on our souls.”

Dar’adhavi staggered a bit as the vision released her, and she looked up at the sound of wings, intending to let Vulthuryol or Paarthurnax know she was fine. She straightened slowly when she saw Alduin there instead.

“Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin. Die now and await your fate in Sovngarde!”

Paarthurnax called from his perch, “Lost funt. You are too late, Alduin!”

“Suleyki mulaag, Paarthurnax. My power has waxed, while yours has waned.” Alduin attacked Paarthurnax, who leapt into the air. The two dragons fought, and Dar’adhavi Shouted dragonrend at Alduin. Just as before, the Shout caused Alduin to crash to the ground at her feet. She drew her sword and attacked while he was disoriented, and leapt clear as the Shout wore off.

Alduin didn’t get very far, as Vulthuryol dove from above, landing on the larger dragon and flying free. She took Alduin’s distraction as the boon it was, and Shouted him down again. He glared at her.

“Meyz mul, Dovahkiin. You have become strong. But I am Al-du-in, firstborn of Akatosh! Mulaagi zok lot! I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else! You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you, mortal!”

He leapt into the air and flew off, and Paarthurnax and Vulthuryol landed near her. She glared into the distance, then whirled on Vulthuryol when he began to laugh.

“He is afraid of you, little sister.”

“And does that help? You heard him. Dar’adhavi can not slay him here, and she doubts he will make it easy for her to find him,” she snarled, then began pacing.

“It does help, yes. You have fought him to a standstill in his greatness, which will shake the faith of his followers. And you freed me, which is a boon to you, as well.” Vulthuryol stretched his wings and settled again. “I think you might gain support against him now. I will go, and see who will see reason and might be willing to defy Alduin.” 

He flew off, and Dar’adhavi turned to Paarthurnax. “And what is this one meant to do with this help?”

Paarthurnax considered. “Some who might join their fates to yours would know Alduin’s eyrie, and how to get there. You will not have their full support until Alduin lies dead.”

She looked out over the horizon. “Alduin isn’t the only threat to the world though, is he?” she turned back to the dragon. “If Dar’adhavi defeats Alduin, she might end up with an army of Dov, yes? She could end these bedamned wars.”

Paarthurnax seemed amused. “There has never been a Dragonborn Emperor with dragons to his command.”

“There has never been a Khajiiti Emperor, either,” she grinned at him and took her leave. 

She found master Arngeir waiting. “You have been busy, Dragonborn.”

She nodded. “Dar’adhavi consulted the Blades archive to find an Elder Scroll. Paarthurnax has been assisting her. This one fought Alduin. Alduin fled. Dar’adhavi’s ally seeks out those who might be willing to turn from him.” She swayed, feeling the stress of the day catch up.

“The Blades? They-” she cut him off.

“They had information Dar’adhavi needed. Had she a choice, this one never would have consulted them. Dar’adhavi distrusts them. And there is another dragon with Paarthurnax. He is Vulthuryol, and Dar’adhavi’s ally.”

Arngeir studied her. “You need to rest. Come.” He led the way to the Greybeards’ quarters and directed her to sleep. She lay on one of the stone beds, and obliged.

She woke without remembering if she dreamt, and tried to ignore how unsettled that left her. She hated to admit how comfortable she was getting with the Shivering Isles. She made her way to the great hall and sought out the Greybeards.

“So, you have met Paarthurnax,” Arngeir began. She rolled her eyes at his disapproving tone.

“Yes. Dar’adhavi has taken to the Thu’um like a fish to water, yes? There is little left for you to teach her. This one does still wish to learn, but Paarthurnax seems to understand this one’s nature better.” She sat, beaming at Borri when he placed a bowl of food before her.

“Besides,” she continued, taking a bite, “the Blades will likely ask Dar’adhavi to be dragonslayer to strengthen their position, and Dar’adhavi does not enjoy killing dragons.” She looked up at the general sense of surprise. “This one will kill a dragon attacking a town, or herself, but she would rather talk with them.” She closed her eyes and reached to sense the Throat. There were… four dragons. She finished eating and rose. “Vulthuryol has brought allies. Dar’adhavi needs to speak with them, to see if one can bear her to Alduin’s eyrie.”

She left them, feeling the rumble as one of the others argued with Arngeir. She reached the peak and studied the dragons. Paarthurnax almost blended into the background, a pale gray, and Vulthuryol was eye-catching despite his smaller size, bright orange with black points. The two new dragons were a vibrant red, and a white and purple. She almost felt sorry for Paarthurnax. She knew what it was like to have no patterning among vibrant peers.

The dragons all turned at her approach. 

“So, you wish to challenge Alduin? I might like to see that,” the white and purple said.

The red snorted. “He fled from such a tiny mortal, too. I would taste of your voice before I decide.”

She obliged him, and leaned against Vulthuryol’s wing as the two new ones discussed her. Finally they turned to her again. “Your thu’um is indeed mighty, Dovahkiin. Should you need me, you may call upon me. I am Sahlokniir,” the white introduced himself.

The red looked around and sighed. “And I am Odahviing. I think my brothers are fools, but I can bear you to Skuldafn. From there, you must find your own way into Sovengarde.”

She studied them. “And none of you will accompany me?”

“No. Should you lose, Alduin will destroy any who aid you. But, should you return…” Sahlokniir trailed off.

“Very well. I will need some time to make arrangements, then we can go.”

Vulthuryol nudged her. “You are slow. Tell me where you wish to go, and I will bear you hence.”

She sighed and mounted the dragon. She guided him to Whiterun first. He laughed as the people below screamed in terror when he landed on the roof of the vacant house, Breezehome. She sighed as she jumped off, moving to intercept the guards.

“Calm yourselves. This dragon is in thrall to Dar’adhavi, and will harm none.” She glanced over when she saw Jarl Balgruuf approach, sword drawn. “My Jarl.” She bowed. 

“This is your doing, Dragonborn?” he asked, never looking away from Vulthuryol.

“Indeed, my Jarl. Dar’adhavi goes to fight Alduin, but needs better supplies.”

“That doesn’t explain the dragon,” Irileth commented dryly.

“I am Dragonborn.” She turned to the guard captain. “He will bring no one to harm. And Dar’adhavi needs arrows.”

One of the guards ran off at that, and she waited for his return. The crowd seemed to be relaxing as Vulthuryol was pointedly watching some birds fly by. The guard came back, a full quiver of arrows in hand. He held them out, apparently afraid to come closer. She took them with thanks, then mounted again. There was a gasp from the crowd as Vulthuryol lifted himself off the house, and she laughed.

“Part of me wants to go scare the Blades with you.”

Vulthuryol laughed. “And?”

She shook her head. “No. Alduin awaits. I can bring them to heel later.”

Vulthuryol nodded and flew back to the Throat. They landed and Dar’adhavi took stock of her weapons and potions. She dumped everything but the healing potions and arrows in a pile by the wall, strapping on her bow and sword. She turned to Odahviing. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He landed closer to him and she climbed on. He was larger than Vulthuryol, and not nearly as comfortable. Odahviing rose, and Dar’adhavi noted the differences in how they flew. Finally, Odahviing banked a turn, and she looked down upon a fortress, built high in the mountains. She knew she never would have been able to reach it on foot.

The dragon landed, and she slid off. She and Odahviing studied the approach, then he turned to her.

“This is far as I can take you. Krif voth ahkrin. I will look for your return, or Alduin's.”

With that, he flew off the way they had come. Dar’adhavi swallowed down her fear and approached the fortress. It was guarded by draugr, which posed little challenge, but she stopped when the first dragon landed.

“I am here to face the coward Alduin. If you would die for him, come forth.”

The dragon studied her for a long moment. Finally, it rose, calling its fellows to join him. She watched, awed, as half a dozen dragons flew off. She was shaken from her fancies by another draugr, and she sighed, returning to the fight.

She fought her way through the fortress, and was surprised when she found herself outside again. She sniped the final draugr she saw and walked up a staircase. She stopped at the rush of magic, peering over the ledge. She watched something that was like the draugr, but not, open a massive portal. _Is that a lich?_

She debated her chances of rushing past, then decided to just get rid of it. I was doing some impressive magics for Alduin, after all. She fired off an arrow, then swore as it turned to attack her. She dodged a gout of conjured flame, and lightning from the staff he held, a mantra of profanity running through her head as she fired another arrow. It seemed to stagger the lich, and she Shouted Fire at it, sending it back a few more paces. She ducked behind a pillar while it recovered, downing a healing potion and hissing as it burned. She shot it again, and this time it went down for good, falling to ash before her eyes.

She grabbed the staff the lich had wielded and mounted the steps to where it had been standing. She placed the staff in the center of a sigil and watched the portal open. Well, here we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation convention: All the conversations in italics are in the Dragon tongue (I just didn't want to translate them all)


	14. 13

She landed at the top of a hill, surrounded by lush grasses and flowers. She looked up, and saw the same sky she saw in her visions. She froze as a familiar-unfamiliar voice whispered in her ear.

_You must find Shor’s Hall, Champion, and gain entry. You will require the aid of the doom-driven heroes of the past. It lies in the center of Sovengarde, and all roads will lead you thence. Be wary, for the World-Eater stalks his misborn mists for the souls of the fallen. You have blessings upon you, Champion. Travel swift. Your doom awaits._

She shivered as a tingle of strange magic washed over her. She shook it off, and trotted down the path before her. Who or whatever the voice was, they were right. She could feel the urgency of her task with every step she took. She continued through the mist, seeing souls of soldiers in Stormcloak and Imperial armors wandering, lost. She shoved away her sympathy and kept moving. Once Alduin was dead, they would be freed. She rounded a bend in the path and slowed, taking in the sight of a vast hall ahead.

Torches gleamed along the entrances, each door tall enough to allow a giant admittance, and marveled at the bridge that arced over the canyon that lay between her and the hall. It seemed to be made of the spine and ribs of a massive creature. She approached the bridge cautiously as a figure stepped into her path.

She looked up at him. He was huge. She barely reached the belt he wore, and she thought the sword strapped to his back had a blade longer than she was tall. He broke into the thoughts racing around her mind.

“What brings you here, wayfarer grim, to wander here, in Sovngarde, souls-end, Shor's gift to the honored dead?” His voice was like the rolling of distant thunder.

She squared her shoulders and faced him. She brought her will to bear, and faced him down. “Dar’adhavi pursues Alduin, the World-Eater.”

He nodded. “A fateful errand. No few have chafed to face the Worm since first he set his soul-snare here at Sovngarde's threshold. But Shor restrained our wrathful onslaught- perhaps, deep-counseled, your doom he foresaw.”

“This one seeks entrance to the Hall of Valor.” She wanted to inch away and climb a pillar. This was going to lead to a fight, she just knew it.

He studied her. “No shade are you, as usually here passes, but living, you dare the land of the dead. By what right do you request entry?”

She blinked. She had become used to everyone knowing who she was. “By the twinned rights of Birth and Cunning. Dar’adhavi is Dragonborn, and Champion to the Lord of the Never-There.”

The guardian, who could only be the god Tsun, smiled at her response, pleased. “Ah! It's been too long since last I faced a doom-driven hero of the dragon blood. And your Lord has chosen His Champion well.”

She looked past him, along the bridge. “Khajiit can enter the Hall of Valor, yes?”

Tsun shook his head sadly. “Living or dead, by decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge 'til I judge them worthy by the warrior's test.”

He drew his sword, _definitely bigger than me_ , and swung. She dodged and clambered up a pillar, firing an arrow as soon as she was up. He struck the pillar, and she leapt to the next, shooting him again as he freed his weapon from the wreckage. She jumped a few pillars ahead and fired again and he sheathed his weapon, beaming up at her.

“You fought well. I find you worthy. It is long since one of the living has entered here. May Shor's favor follow you and your errand.”

She hopped off the pillar and approached the bridge, finally getting a good look at it.

It was a spine. Held together with wires as thick as her arm, but it was a spine. She swallowed and crossed gingerly. When she reached the far side, she opened one of the great doors to reveal a feasting hall. There were tables ahead, groaning under the weight of whole roast oxen, and innumerable other dishes. A glance to her left showed a massive throne, currently vacant, with a number of warriors brawling before it. To her right, there were massive kegs, large enough to pickle a mammoth.

She stopped as a figure approached her, and she knew without knowing how that this was Ysgramor, the ancient warrior that all Nords still held in high esteem.

“Welcome, Dragonborn! Our door has stood empty since Alduin first set his soul-snare here. By Shor's command we sheathed our blades and ventured not the vale's dark mist. But three await your word to loose their fury upon the perilous foe. Gormlaith the fearless, glad-hearted in battle; Hakon the valiant, heavy-handed warrior; Felldir the Old, far-seeing and grim.”

He gestured across the hall, and she saw the three that she had watched in the Elder Scroll. She approached them, to be greeted warmly.

“At long last! Alduin's doom is now ours to seal! Just speak the word and with high hearts we'll hasten forth to smite the worm wherever he lurks,” Gormlaith cried at her approach.

“Hold, comrades! Let us counsel take before battle is blindly joined,” Felldir warned. “Alduin's mist is more than a snare, its shadowy gloom is his shield and cloak. But with four Voices joined, our valor combined, we can blast the mist and bring him to battle.”

“Felldir speaks wisdom,” Hakon said, turning to her. “The World-Eater, coward, fears you, Dragonborn. We must drive away his mist, Shouting together, and then unsheathe our blades in desperate battle with our black-winged foe.”

Gormlaith drew her sword and led the way to the doors. “To battle, my friends! The fields will echo with the clamor of war, our wills undaunted.”

There was a cheer among the gathered warriors as they passed, and countless of them offered hands to clasp, or a quick squeeze of her shoulders. They marched across the bridge, the older three letting Dar’adhavi take the lead, much to her amusement. She nodded at Tsun as she passed, hearing him say, “The eyes of Shor are upon you this day. Defeat Alduin, and destroy his soul-snare.”

She stood before the great bridge, the three Tongues of the past arrayed behind her, and Shouted the Words Paarthurnax had taught her, the others Shouting a beat behind. The mists cleared, and Alduin roared from elsewhere in Sovengarde. The mists rolled back, but she and the Tongues Shouted them clear once more. Again, Alduin called down the mist, and again the four cleared it.

Finally, Alduin flew over the horizon, and Dar’adhavi Shouted him to a landing. 

“You are persistent, Dovahkiin. Pruzeh ol aar. A fine slave you would have made.”

She snarled at him, as Gormlaith and Hakon charged. She stood back with Felldir, matching his spells with her arrows. She ran short and drew her sword, calling down Dragonrend again and, mimicking Gormlaith’s attack, leapt onto his head, driving her blade through one red eye.

She jumped free as Alduin cried, “Zu'u unslaad! zu'u nis oblaan!” and rose.

She readied for another attack, but once he finished rearing back, he seemed to explode into light. She lowered her sword as Tsun approached.

“This was a mighty deed! The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and cleansed is Sovngarde of his evil snare. They will sing of this battle in Shor's hall forever. But your fate lies elsewhere. When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again, with glad friendship and bid you join the blessed feasting.” He beamed at her, and she looked up at him, confused.

“Is he dead? When Dar’adhavi slew dragons in the past, there was fire.”

He shook his head, guiding her away. “The answers you seek are not to be known by mortals, even such as you. Set it aside, and rejoice in your victory.”

She slowly sheathed her sword as the heroes who called Sovengarde home cheered her.

Tsun looked down at her. “When you are ready to rejoin the living, just bid me so, and I will send you back.”

She nodded, feeling empty somehow. “Send this one back, then.”

“Return now to Nirn, with this rich boon from Shor, my lord: a Shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need. Nahl Daal Vus!”

She staggered a bit as she returned to Nirn, and looked up. The Throat was currently host to several dragons, perched upon the rocks and circling the peak.

In unison, the dragons called, “Alduin mahlaan!”

A single dragon called, “Sahrot thur qahnaraan!” And rose to join the circling dragons above.

Again, the dragons called, “Alduin mahlaan!”

A second dragon spoke. “Dovahkiin los ak dovahkriid,” and joined the ones in the sky.

“Alduin mahlaan!”

Another cried, “Thu'umii los nahlot!”

“Alduin mahlaan!”

Another said, “Mu los vamir!”

She watched the circling dragons, and tried to recognize them individually, and failed. She turned to Paarthurnax.

“So, it is done. Alduin dilon. The Eldest is no more, he who came before all others, and has always been.” He hadn’t looked at her, but continued to watch his brethren in the sky.

“You don't sound very happy about it.”

He looked at her now. “Happy? No, I am not happy. Zeymahi lost ont du'ul Bormahu. Alduin was once the crown of our father Akatosh's creation. You did what was necessary. Alduin had flown far from the path of right action in his pahlok, the arrogance of his power. But I cannot celebrate his fall. Zu'u tiiraaz ahst ok mah. He was my brother once. This world will never be the same.” He shook himself. But I forget myself. Krosis. So los mid ahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into. You have won a mighty victory. Sahrot krongrah, one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. Savor your triumph, Dovahkiin. This is not the last of what you will write upon the currents of Time. Goraan! I feel younger than I have in many an age.” He leapt into the air to join the rest, and called down, “Many of the dovahhe are now scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen, rightness of my Thu'um. But willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!”

He flew off, and she considered what to do next. Odahviing landed beside her, and she saw Sahlokniir land past him. Vulthuryol landed behind her, and she smiled. Odahviing and Sahlokniir were watching Paarthurnax.

Finally Odahviing shook his head and turned to her. “Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. I wish the old one luck in his… quest. But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's ‘Way of the Voice’. As for myself, you've proven your mastery twice over. Thuri, Dovahkiin. I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu'um. Zu'u Odahviing. Call me when you have need, and I will come if I can.”

She looked at Sahlokniir. “Doesdar’adhavi have your loyalty, as she has Odahviing’s?” she asked as Odahviing flew off.

The white head nodded. “Indeed, Thuri. And I will strive to convince others to bow to your will, as well.” With that, Sahlokniir left to join Odahviing.

She looked back at Vulthuryol. “Dar’adhavi has a feeling she don’t have a choice about you.”

He chuckled. “Niid. But you wished to deal with the Blades, yes?”

She laughed. “Oh, yes. Khajiit believes that Delphine wishes to turn this one into a dragonslayer, and nothing more.”

She mounted, and guided him to the Temple the Blades were hiding in. She was slowly getting used to flight, but she preferred Rogue. Vulthuryol glided over the mountain, landing softly in the courtyard. She grinned when she saw both Blades, standing beneath one of the arches, talking quietly. 

“I used to dream of it.” Esbern was saying. She stopped to listen. “In the dream, I was standing… someplace high up… a tower, or a mountain. It was always just before dawn. The whole world was in darkness. Then came the flash of light– just on the horizon, within the clouds that mark the border between worlds. It could have been lightning, but there was no thunder. In the dream, the sense of foreboding grew, but I could never wake up. Then it came again, this time more distinct. Closer. Definitely not lightning now. It was orange– brilliant orange, the color of hearth and dawn.” Dar’adhavi grinned over at the brilliantly orange Vulthuryol. “And a sound, too. Distinct and indistinct. Not thunder… something else. Something I should recognize, but in the dream I cannot place it. I want to leave my high place, to seek shelter. From what, I don’t yet know. In the manner of dreams, I cannot escape. I’m forced to wait and watch. Then, finally, realization and horror arrive together. The orange is flame, heat. The sound a roar, a challenge in their ancient tongue. But now it’s too late for escape. The dragon is upon me– fire and darkness descending like a thunderbolt. And not just any dragon, but the Dragon– Alduin, the World-Eater, the dragon who devours both the living and the dead. And then I would wake up. And hope that it was just a dream… but know that it was not.”

Before Delphine could reply, Dar’adhavi said, “It matters little now. The World-Eater is dead, slain by Khajiit’s own hand.”

The Blades whirled around when she spoke, and Delphine had her sword half-drawn when Dar’adhavi Shouted the first word of Force, causing them to stumble back a step.

“Dar’adhavi wishes to speak to the Blades, not a pair of cowering elders. Can you be such again?”

“There is a dragon behind you,” Esbern said, faintly.

“Indeed, and he is this one’s brother-in-soul. Touch him, and Dar’adhavi will finish what the Thalmor started with your… order,” she sneered the last word. The two humans gaped at her, and Delphine did not sheathe her sword. Dar’adhavi gave a bit of credit to her for not drawing it fully. “All the Dov that fly now answer to Dar’adhavi. If you slay one of them, this one swears by all the gods, living and dead, she will end you.” She turned and mounted, looking down on the two. “Dar’adhavi will be needing your order later. Find recruits and build your numbers.”

She nudged Vulthuryol, and he flew her to Ivarstead. He landed on the crypt near the town and flew off as she went to collect Rogue. She rode into Riften late, and paid for a bed in the Bee and Barb before she faced the Guild. She saw Sapphire in the main room, and sent a message, asking for everyone to meet her in the morning.

She stripped and fell into her bed.

She glanced up at the stars and galaxies, then sighed and entered the throne room.

She walked down the runner and bowed to Sheogorath. He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh? And what’s this supposed to be?”

She looked up, surprised. “Dar’adhavi finished. Alduin lies dead in Sovengarde. She thought… You aren’t dismissing this one?”

He chortled as he rose and approached her. “My dear, sweet, favored, mortal. I certainly didn’t invest this much time into you to cast you aside once things get really interesting, now would I? I mean, I can’t keep dragging you back here as often anymore, true, but you’re a smart kitten, and I certainly plan on keepin’ my eye on you. You still are my Champion, after all.”

She grinned. “You figured out what this one plans, yes?”

“Oh, yes. And I plan on having a front-row seat to watch, too. By the by, I adored how you put the Blades in their place. Marvelous.”

She grinned and spent the rest of her night laying plans with the Madgod.

She rose the next morning, dressing carefully, and made her way down into the Flagon. She grabbed a bite to eat from Vekel, and waited as the rest of the Guild filed in, in varying stages of wakefulness. She tried to hide her impatience as everyone woke more. And grinned as Delvin, Brynjolf, Vex, and Karliah sat with her.

“Alright, lass, you’ve got us all here. Now, what’s this about?” Brynjolf grumbled.

“This one said she had a big job planned, yes? Dar’adhavi will require assistance with it. The pay will be great, as will the risk. Are you all interested?”

“Bleedin’ hell, Boss, just tell us the job already. Half of us have money ridin’ on it.”

She grinned. “Khajiit can guarantee that no one is close.”

She glanced around the Flagon, making sure she had the full attention of all of her thieves. Carefully, she drew the Jagged crown out of her pack and set it on the table before her as the gathered thieves gasped. 

“Boss, that’s….” Delvin breathed, reverently.

She nodded, grin widening as she heard Sheggorath’s laughter ring in her ears. “It is. So. How would you all like helping Dar’adhavi steal an Empire?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! I'm currently plotting the sequel, if anyone is interested. 
> 
> Comments are love, and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So, here we have my un-beta'd NaNo fic.


End file.
